


Forget-Me-Not

by Minubell



Series: Forget-Me-Not AU [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Angst, Fluff, Lots of Angst, Paultryk is a side relationship, They hold hands and shit, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 79,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minubell/pseuds/Minubell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know where he is. But based on the wanted posters scattered across the town, he can tell he's a wanted man. And even if it might be broken now, the useless red gun in his hands has some kind of value. </p><p>Thankfully, the names on the wanted posters give him something to go off of.<br/>After all, Red Leader isn't exactly a common name. And with a bounty that high, there has to be information on who he is somewhere. It's just a simple matter of dodging the authorities while trying to dig up his own past.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Updating approximately every week.</i><br/>Chapter delayed due to illness. Next update 5/29/18ish<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rise and Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Tags may change with each additional chapter. Please give me feedback since this is my first fic!
> 
> You can find more information or ask me questions about Forget-Me-Not on my blog  
> [Here](http://www.Minubell.tumblr.com)! Everything is tagged under Forget Me Not AU
> 
> Translated into Polish and posted on [Wattpadd](http://www.wattpad.com/story/80327766-forget-me-not-nie-zapomnij-mnie) by [Crazylittlepancake](http://www.crazylittlepancake.tumblr.com/)

Before he even opened his eyes he knew something was wrong. 

Taking a few moments between waking up and actually opening his eyes, he turned his attention inwards, trying to think. His brow wrinkled in concentration, trying to focus on information that was lacking him. That insufferable chirping noise from nearby wasn’t helping any either.  
_Birds,_ his brain supplied through the haze.  
And even beyond that, some distant but loud roaring noise, repeated over and over again.  
_Cars. Highway._  
Frowning, he tried once more to focus, yet yielded nothing yet again.  
He knew birds.  
He knew cars.  
But he did not know himself. 

Or, put more easily, he had no idea who he was.

When his eyes did finally crack open, the immediate effect was a harsh invasion of bright light that simultaneously blinded him and left him with a loud, ringing headache that perched just above his left eyebrow. His eyes quickly closed in a tight squint as he turned his face away, bringing his right hand to defend his sensitive eyes from the harsh light. Some crude form of a breath hissed in past his teeth in either disgust, or pain. Or, more likely, a combination of both.

After a few moments, he dared to open his eyes again. While the headache lingered, the light did not seem nearly as bright now and was even manageable without his hand blocking the sun beating down on him from above, provided he didn’t try to look directly at the glowing orb. _The sun._ The bright, blue sky stared down at him as he slowly forced himself upright, the his fingers digging into the grass under him. Ripping a few blades of _grass_ away from their roots, he stared at the green plants accusingly before turning his attention to the items dispersed around where he was sitting. 

Or, rather, the scattered remains of an unshakably familiar object whose gutted husk was resting on his lap.

Ignoring the wires and shards of metal resting in the grass, he lifted the reddish piece of scrap metal up, careful to avoid the large hole near the middle of the gun where a large hole had been punched through it. The jagged ends of metal around that area were no doubt sharp and he had no business sticking fingers or limbs anywhere near there. Looking the whole object over carefully, it took a few moments but he finally recognized it for what it was. Or, rather, what it had been.

_Gun._

Wrapping his fingers gingerly around the grip of the weapon, he paused before slowly standing up, bringing the red gun up with him. Holding it in his hands felt…nice. Good. He could feel the relief welling up within him, even though he was absolutely sure the hunk of metal would likely never work with the level of mutilation it had suffered. Still, holding the frame in his hands gave him a sense of satisfaction and safety. 

So what was the harm in bringing it along? 

Holding the gun close to his chest like a security blanket, he looked around the large, flat field he had awoken in, half expecting but mostly wishing his brain would supply some detail. Anything. Any kind of lead, something he could work with. But no matter how he tried to wrack his brain, nothing came up. He couldn’t place this field at all as being familiar.

His grip on the gun tightened as he took in a breath. Right, okay. He could hear cars. That meant…people. Somewhere nearby at least. He could start there, try to get a map and look for any familiar locations. Listening for a moment, he turned slowly towards where he could hear cars in the distance before not-so-confidently placing one foot in front of the other. Once he got to civilization he could think of his next course of action. But for now in this unfamiliar place and not even a name to himself, he had to start small.  
Baby steps.  
Baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, yo, yo! Check out this rad video Tumblr user [ AskTordVoice](https://asktordvoice.tumblr.com/) made! [ Reading Forget-Me-Not | Chapter 1](https://asktordvoice.tumblr.com/post/173136292763/oh-look-i-read-an-actual-good-fanfic-150-to)


	2. Wanted

Well, it hadn’t been a highway. 

It had actually been a busy street road. Not too far off from his original guess, then.

A street was much better than a highway, since stepping out of the line of bushes and trees that had dived the field from the road meant that he was staring directly at a line of houses. If it had been a highway, it could have been much more effort to locate somewhere with people. Of course, he would have had the road to follow and the possibility of someone picking up a hitchhiker. Had he woken up in the woods with no signs of sounds of people anywhere nearby, it would have been much more difficult finding his way back to a safer area. And with no memories and nothing but a broken gun to his name, he would have been left absolutely lost in an unfamiliar, potentially dangerous area. Not dangerous for any wildlife, more just the fact he would have been hopelessly lost. Even if he had woken up with a compass he still would have been hopelessly lost. 

Just... hopelessly lost and headed North. 

But the point was that he had been lucky and he was thankful for that. Glancing both ways down the street, he waited for a gap in the cars before quickly running across the open road to the sidewalk on the other side. The streets were positively bustling with people so it was easy to merge into the crowds, letting his legs go on autopilot and carrying him with the people walking down the street while he tried to think. 

He had gotten to civilization. Check that one off the list. Done and taken care of. All wrapped up and good to go. 

…Now what? The idea of working in baby steps worked but that implied he had some kind of overall goal. Or at least an idea of what he was supposed to do after he found people. But to be honest, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, he didn’t even know who he was supposed to be. He didn’t even know his own name. How was he supposed to take the next step forward when he had no leads to start off of in the first place? He had nothing. Getting to civilization in the first place meant absolutely nothing if he didn’t have anything to go off of. Instead of being literally lost in a forest somewhere, he was figuratively lost in his own mind. It didn’t matter where he happened to be standing. He could be anywhere in the world and it wouldn’t change the fact he couldn’t do anything.

He was fucking useless.

Clenching his jaw, he clutched the broken gun closer to him, his knuckles quickly turning white as his feet came to a stall in the middle of the sidewalk. People and conversations passed him by as he remained still, at least until someone bumped into his shoulder and nearly sent him sprawling onto the cement. Gathering up enough sense to move out of the way, he managed to stumble to the far side of the sidewalk and press his back up against a wall, his breath catching in his throat in surprise. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do even think right and now here he was choking on his own useless breath. His eyes squeezed shut turned around, turning his back on the crowd. He needed to calm down. He needed to focus. He needed to… he needed to….

_Breathe._

Gradually his fingers relaxed until he was loosely cradling the gun once more. His shoulders fell slightly as he gradually opened his eyes, staring at his own reflection in the smooth glass of the building he had come to rest against. He looked positively awful. He hadn’t actually had a look at himself since he woke up and with his one-track mind, he had somehow managed to avoid to topic of what he actually looked like. And to be honest, he didn’t like what he saw.

Grimacing, he gently lifted his bandaged right hand to the right side of his face, placing a curious hand over one of the terrible gashes that ran across his cheek to dangerously close to his eye. While the injury was no longer actively bleeding, it was still tender to the touch and he quickly moved his fingers away with a small hiss. But even if his face wasn’t bleeding anymore the bandages on his arm _How had he missed that?_ were bloodied in small patches. The accident he had been in had been far enough away for his face to heal, but not whatever happened to him beneath the bandages on his arm. Based on his face alone, it seemed like a miracle he could even move the limb at all. How had he not noticed he had been injured? This wasn’t a paper cut. How was he not in a hospital right now?

His gaze finally drifted away from his scarred reflection, shifting to a piece of paper taped crudely to the window. Studying the paper, he inhaled sharply, reaching a hand out to grasp the corner of the paper. 

_Ah. That would make sense._

Tearing the paper from the window abruptly, he glanced over his shoulder at the crowds before shying into the alley between two buildings, seeking refuge amongst the garbage and filth. Retreating several feet back before daring to look at the paper again, he took a shaky breath before staring down at the paper. There, right in the middle, was an image of him. Well, an image of him without the injuries and wearing an entirely different outfit. But to the side of his face that was unmarred, the likeness was unmistakable. 

It was him. 

On a wanted poster.

Cracking a sorry excuse for a smile, he chuckled, slowly sitting down on the damp floor of the alley, staring at the paper he was holding. The broken red gun lay across his folded legs, allowing him to grasp both corners of the paper and hold it easier to read the writing. 

Well, he had wanted a lead on who he was. What better lead could he get than a name? Sure it didn’t sound anything like a real name but he had a significant alias, at least.

After all, someone didn’t get a name like Red Leader doing nothing.


	3. Lost and Found

On the second day it appeared his luck had not only run out, but had taken a fall down three flights of stairs and had broken both of its kneecaps. His luck was hospitalized for three weeks before it was finally cleared to leave, only to trip into an open manhole and become lost in the sewer for years and eventually die from scurvy after exclusively eating rats.

On the second day it rained.

Waking up with a start as a heavy droplet of water splattered against his face, he tensed briefly before groaning as he dragged himself upright, wiping his cheek with his left hand. There wasn’t any blood there, thankfully, but the droplet had still stung his cheek. He didn’t know why his arm had bothered to be bandaged but his face not. Was it just deemed not important? Or maybe his arm was much worse than his face was by a significant margin.  
Grimacing at the thought, he moved his left arm to gently grasp his right, giving the bandages a small squeeze. Sure enough, even though the pressure was extremely light, it sent a jolt of pain spiking up his shoulder and down his back, as well as straight down his arm to the tips of his fingers. Hissing softly, he pulled his legs in closer to his chest and inched backwards, driving his back right up against the wall he had been sleeping nearby. That had _hurt._ It hurt far more than the rain drop hitting his cheek, even though he had barely even squeezed his arm. The lightest touch had caused such a harsh reaction. 

Of course, he had assumed the injury hidden under the bandages was bad ever since he saw the blood spotting the bandages. He wasn’t any kind of medical expert, or at least not as far as he was aware, but the possibility of dying from blood loss loomed in the back of his mind. His breath caught in his throat as he gently placed a hand over his bandaged arm again, closing his eyes tightly. He could by dying right now and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t go to a hospital to get medical help. Not if he was a wanted man. And without memories to know who is friends were, he was cut off and without resources. He had nobody who could help him.

Swallowing hard, he winced as the rain grew heavier and heavier, quickly going from a drizzle to an all-out downpour. Yanking his hood up to cover his head, he tucked his knees in closer to his body and hunched over on himself, curling in a tight ball to try to hide his bandaged arm and his injured face from the heavy rain. The sound of individual rain drops striking the pavement quickly blurred into a rushing sound that filled his ears and blocked out other sounds. His eyes growing heavy again, he rested his forehead on his knees, letting the water soak into his sweatshirt as he slowly fell asleep again.

**_BOOM_ **

The scream that erupted past his mouth was drowned out by the loud crack of thunder overhead, followed moments later by a bright flash of lightning in the air. Jerking his head up, he stared at the blackened sky above, his eyes widening in shock as another flash of lightning ripped across the sky only moments behind the first. Moving his hands to his chest, he folded in on himself, his entire body shaking. His heart pounded loud and fast, threatening to burst free with every beat.

_He couldn’t breathe._

Breath left him in short, quick gasps as he fell over sideways, only just managing to catch himself with his left hand before his face smashed into the wet pavement. Even as he tried, he couldn’t seem to regain any of the precious, lost oxygen. Wheezing and coughing, he lifted his bandaged hand to his chest as it tightened, his heart racing under his skin. Thunder raged on overhead as his cheeks burned. His entire body was _hot_.

_He couldn’t see._

His eyes focused on his left hand as it barely managed to keep him from outright collapsing. The edges of his vision fell away, leaving him with only a small circle he could actually make out filled mostly by the back of his hand. In the absence of his peripheral vision, colors flashed behind his eyes.  
_Green._  
_Red._  
_Purple._  
_Red._  
_Blue._  
_Red._  
_White._  
_Red._  
_White._  
_White._

White lightning lit up the sky once more, forcing a haggard cough past his lips.

_He couldn’t move._

Closing his eyes tight, he whined, unable to move his shaking, numb body. Jerking his head upright, his vision swam before managing to focus on a metal dumpster near the other end of the alleyway. His mind latched on and pushed, trying to spur him to get up and seek shelter under the large metal container. His left arm trembled as he tried to move it forward, only for the rest of his body not to follow in suit. He fell hard, his chin smashing into the pavement. Tears pushed their way to the surface as he slowly dragged himself into a ball on the ground, squeezing his eyes shut and lifting his hands in a pitiful attempt to cover his ears. 

The storm overhead continued to churn, thunder and lightning competing for who could gather more attention from the people safely huddled within their houses. As for the red-hooded figure trembling alone in a ball on the pavement, he continued to lay there long after the storm had shambled along to go scare dogs in other neighborhoods. 

— — 

Waking up out of a dead sleep in a puddle, he coughed loudly, his entire body jostled with each and every wheeze. When…when had he fallen asleep? Groaning, he pulled his aching body slowly upright, wiping water away from his cheek before looking down at himself. His red sweatshirt was completely soaked by water and his pants had not fared much better. The bandages on his arm had not suffered as badly, but had still been exposed to some water. Squinting up at the sky, he blinked slowly. How long had he been asleep for?

Turning his focus away from the sky, he slowly placed a stiff hand on the ground and used it to prop himself upright, stumbling to his feet. Holding his bandaged arm, he took a few shaky breaths. Everything hurt and, despite just waking up, he felt absolutely exhausted. But even more pressing than the desire to rest was a strong need for food. 

He was _starving_.

Glancing towards the start of the alleyway, he eyed the people and cars as they quickly moved by before looking down at himself. His body was soaked and he looked like an absolute mess. There was no way he was going to be able to step out onto the street without someone trying to contact either the police or the hospital. And either one of those situations would be terrible. After all, if the authorities managed to find him, he highly doubted that they would let him off lighter because he couldn’t remember who he was. It certainly sounded like a poor defense, didn’t it? 

Sorry Officer, I know I committed terrible crimes but I can’t actually remember doing any of them so you should really just let me keep going so I can try to find some food and water.

Yeah, that was absolutely ridiculous sounding, even in his head. Sighing, he turned away from the front of the alley, rubbing his hand against his aching right shoulder. It hadn’t hurt nearly this much when he first woke up in the field, had it? Was it just the initial shock of his situation finally wearing off? Maybe he had just somehow managed to ignore the throbbing pain under his skin at first. Rubbing his shoulder, he paused for a few seconds before a tired smile forced its way up, accompanied by a sigh. No, that was dumb. Maybe he had just managed to get his hands on some painkillers previously and they had finally left his system.

Glancing towards the dumpster nearby, he took a few steps forwards until he was standing in front of it. It was….not exactly what he wanted to do but he had to get food from somewhere. People threw food away all the time, right? Maybe he could find a half-eaten sandwich or something and call it a day there. Lifting up one arm, he grasped the edge of the lid and reluctantly forced it open a few inches. Immediately he slammed the lid shut again and turned around, his throat tightening as a round of coughs escaped past his lips. The coughing fit degraded quickly as he doubled over, trembling as he heaved silently for a few moments. Had he actually eaten anything recently he was positive it would have been all over the pavement but there was nothing actually in his stomach to throw up in the first place .That didn’t make the experience any less uncomfortable as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It took a few minutes before he finally stopped dry heaving and was left doubled over, tears running down his cheeks. 

Dumpster diving was a no-go. He hadn’t been able to stand the horrible smell for more than a split second before his nose had picked up the scent of some kind of very expired dairy product. He hadn’t actually seen whatever it was in there causing such a horrible mess but at this point, he was just going to forgo the dumpster option. Moving back to his puddle, he sat down beside his only possession, letting his hand rest on the gun. It was fine. He was fine. This was what, day two? Maybe day three? People should be able to survive without food for longer than that. He’d just think of another plan and try that tomorrow. If things got bad he could try the dumpster again but he was probably better off looking elsewhere. Any food in there would probably just be crushed by the weight of the rest of the garbage. 

“It’s alright,” He told himself in a whisper, looking down at the gun. He carefully picked it up and held it close to his chest, curling his knees in and trying to keep pressure against his protesting stomach. “I’ll be fine," he insisted, letting his cheek rest against the side of the gun. "I can manage on my own."

— — 

Days passed by without much movement from the alleyway. Nobody came to clean out the dumpster and he avoided it like it was diseased, trying to push the memory of the rancid smell out of his brain. That was something he wouldn't mind forgetting. Thankfully, it didn't rain again, although the sky was dangerously grey more times than he would have liked. Still, even if the thunder and lightning had not returned, it didn't mean he felt any safer. He had managed to build up the nerve to try to step out of the alley on the fourth day, only to barely make it ten feet down the street before the flashing lights and wailing siren of an ambulance sent him scrambling back for cover. Even if it hadn't been a police car and even if it hadn't been the booming thunder, the siren was loud enough to send his heart racing and make his entire body shake as he broke down in a fit of coughing.

He hadn't found any food that day either. 

On the fifth day, he couldn't move. It was probably the hunger but it could have something to do with the stubborn cough he had acquired since it rained. His eyes cracked open in the morning and every part of his body felt wickedly cold. The next time he opened his eyes the sun was already high in the sky, though he wasn't positive when exactly he had fallen back asleep. When he finally managed to sit upright the sun was already setting, leaving him to dizzily wonder just how many times he had woken up during the course of the day. He couldn't remember exactly through the haze, but he only felt more exhausted. He spent the night trying to rest, only to jerk awake by a fit of coughing every time he came close to sleep.

His stomach pain was joined by a tight pain in the center of his chest. 

Even though he did not want to be, he was awake when the sun rose on the sixth day. It was a new day. The day before had been an absolute nightmare and he was not hopeful things would improve very much. Leaning his back against one brick wall of the alley, he huddled inside his red hoodie. What he wouldn't kill for a cough drop. The pain in his stomach had mostly faded by this point, but it had only been replaced by a significantly worse cough and an even worse pain in his chest. Every time he coughed, it shook his entire body and made his chest tighten until he felt like he couldn't breathe at all. Even though he had tried to ignore the idea of it, it was unmistakable now.

He was sick.

It had to be the rain, right? He probably got a nasty cold from getting completely drenched in the downpour. Raising a hand to his mouth as he felt a familiar itch in his throat, he braced himself against the wall behind him as a series of loud, horrible coughs rattled his bones. Squeezing his eyes shut as the fit finally passed him by, he rested his forehead on his knees, holding his chest, trying to drive the sharp pains accompany the coughs away. This was bad. This was very, very bad. At what point was he going to call it quits? He still knew next to nothing about who he was supposed to be, yet clearly one of those things was a criminal. If he went to a hospital, would they at least fix him up before sending him off to prison? Should he just turn himself in for whatever crime he committed in the past and hope they patched him up, or try to wait it out himself? He didn't see much hope for overcoming a cold when he couldn't even find food for himself. But what other choice did he have? He was stuck in a useless alleyway with a useless gun and a useless arm. 

"Hello?"

His mind was useless.

"Are you alright?"

_He_ was useless.

Feeling something on his shoulder, he jerked back quickly, nearly slamming his head into the wall behind him. Through his dizziness he managed to make out a person standing in front of him, holding a plastic bag in one hand. Their other hand was slightly outstretched towards him, though it was quickly pulled back when he looked up at the stranger. Silence passed between them briefly before the stranger finally spoke again.

"Tord?"

He sounded uncertain, or at the very least nervous. His voice had cracked. Instead of responding immediately, he glanced down, eyeing the stranger's green hoodie for a second before glancing back up at his face and squinting. Tord? He didn't know that name. It was a name, right? Maybe it was a word he just didn't know.

"What?" He questioned warily, his fingers curling around the edges of the broken gun he was holding. "Who are you?" He pressed his back up against the wall as he felt a familiar itch rise in his throat. Who was this person supposed to be? Had they seen his wanted poster? Were they going to call the police? Lifting a hand to cover his mouth and turning his head aside, he coughed loudly, his shoulders shaking with each one. The hand was on his shoulder again and when he turned to look back at the stranger, they were kneeling in front of him with their face only inches away from his own. "What are you doing?" He asked, squeezing his eyes shut as a hand was pressed against his forehead.

"It's okay," The stranger replied softly, their voice growing gentle. Their eyes briefly glanced down at the broken gun he was holding before looking back up again. The cold hand was removed from his forehead and the stranger gently tugged at his left arm, pulling him slowly to his feet. "You can come back to my place with me." 

His head swam as he stood and he found himself leaning against the man's shoulder. If they hadn't been there to support him, he probably would have fallen over already. "Who are you?" He asked again, his voice hoarse. "Why are you helping me?" They were walking forward now. Or, at least, the stranger was. He was stumbling trying to keep up with them, but they were careful not to walk too quickly and keep their arm tucked under his own to act as a crutch. The stranger in the green hoodie was silent for a few seconds before offering up a warm smile.

"I'm your friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter took a little longer than I expected but, to make up for it, we've got some fanart! My friend [Your-Spacey-Senpai](http://your-spacey-senpai.tumblr.com/) made this gif which is super amazing and I love it so much!


	4. Kindness

Even with the stranger doing most of the work in holding him upright, it took him a great deal of effort to drag his tired feet forward. Barely five steps into trying to move did a sudden wave of dizziness slam into his body. His stomach lurched into his throat as he stopped dead in his tracks. The world was _spinning_. It wasn’t supposed to do that. His knees locked into place as his fingers curled around the green fabric that made up the hoodie the stranger was wearing, holding on for dear life as the spinning around him intensified and his vision blurred. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut to try to block out the dizziness, he swayed uncertainly, threatening to fall over. “I can’t walk,” He whispered, worried his own sound of his own words might be enough to send him crashing to the ground. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move his legs. His knees were tensed up and his feet felt like they were made entirely out of lead. “I can’t move.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” the stranger replied and the fabric under his hands shifted as they moved. His heartbeat accelerated as, for a split second, the fear the man might leave bubbled up to the front of his mind. Was he trying to go? He couldn’t leave him here. Not like this. His hand clenched tighter in response, refusing to let go of the sweatshirt. He couldn’t leave. He said they were friends. 

“Don’t leave me,” He whispered, blindly clinging tighter to him. He didn’t know where the thought had originated from but it quickly swarmed the rest of his mind and the fear of returning back to the laying on the cold, dirty pavement flared up in his mind. What if it rained again? What if the thunder and the lightning came back and he found himself laying on the ground, his arm aching with every flash and his chest growing unbelievably tight with every boom. Even just the thought of being trapped in another rain storm was enough to make his hands tremble. “Please.”

“Tord, I won’t leave you. I promise.”

Honestly, it didn’t reassure him all that much. Especially when the next second he was suddenly pulled forward. But instead of falling down onto the cold, rough pavement below, he hardly even fell before he landed on the soft material so similar to his own hoodie. His body lurched for a second before two arms tucked under his knees, keeping him from sliding down the stranger’s back. When he opened his eyes, he could see the back of the stranger’s dark brown hair and, if he leaned slightly to the right, the alleyway ahead of them, still spinning around like a merry-go-round. But without his feet on the ground and the worry that he might fall over, it was slightly more manageable to deal with. 

“There, see?” The stranger said, surprisingly not sounding all that strained by the fact he was currently carrying someone around the same height as him on his back. Either he didn’t weigh all that much, or this person was just incredibly strong. Still, it was much easier for him now since he didn’t have to worry about walking anymore. Gently grasping the hoodie near the stranger’s shoulders, he closed his eyes again. Even if he wasn’t in danger of falling, the spinning still gave him a headache. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he was carried out of the alleyway, leaving it for the first time in several days. Though he couldn’t see it, the stranger smiled in response, stepping down the street and turning towards an apartment complex in the distance. 

— —

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t peacefully. His eyes snapped open as he sucked in a harsh breath, an unmistakable itch that usually indicated he would be coughing very soon tickling the back of his throat. His heart raced in his chest as he shot upright like a bullet, only for his head to throb painfully. He needed to stop doing that. He couldn’t just keep falling asleep without realizing and waking up later dazed and confused. He coughed loudly one….two…three….four times before he was finally able to stop. Each cough made his throat hurt and his chest squeeze in tight, and while the pain faded slightly after he had finished coughing, it still lingered. But he ignored it for the moment, his puzzlement quickly growing as he looked around. He was laying down on a sofa with a white blanket laying across his lap. His hoodie was missing and the broken gun was nowhere in sight, although he honestly couldn’t remember if he had brought it out of the alleyway or not. The last few days had been more of a blur than anything else and his priorities had scrambled when he had finally been found. 

Sitting on top of his lap was grey cat, sleeping comfortably and seemingly not caring that much about the fact he had moved. Well, he wasn’t moving any time soon then. There was an animal sleeping on his lap and if he got up, he would disturb it. An overwhelming sense of responsibility washed over him as he tried to sit perfectly still but also continue to look around at where he actually was. The room was a bit tight but didn’t have that much stuff occupying it aside from the couch and a tv against a wall.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

Turning his head, he stared at the owner of the apartment. He was wearing his green hoodie still, but his hair was wet as if he had just stood out in the rain. Or just taken a shower. Something along those lines. “I put your sweatshirt in the laundry,” The stranger continued, "I didn’t want to touch your bandages while you were asleep though.” Hearing this, he glanced down at his arm silently, ghosting his fingers over the bandages. The amount of blood soaking through had gotten worse but attempting to peer underneath them felt like he was opening pandora’s box. He almost didn’t want to know how bad it might be. Still, getting fresh bandages on there would likely help him recover faster. Or at least prevent whatever was bleeding from getting infected. “I know this is probably weird for you. A friend of mine had something similar happen to him a while back and he never remembered everything. But if you need anything, I’m here to help. You can ask me about anything you like.”

His mind wandered back briefly to the wanted poster he had seen on the street before his gaze dropped to his arm again. He had a lot of questions. Too many questions, in fact. It was probably best to start with the easiest ones first. “You keep saying ‘Tord’. Is that…my name?” Looking up at his friend, he blinked as they nodded.

“Yup! And I’m Edd.”

“And we’re….friends?”

“Yes! We used to share a house a while back, actually.”

Okay, he had two names now. Well, his own name and the stranger’s name, more specifically. Tord and Edd. Edd and Tord. He’d have to try not to forget those. Maybe he could ask about the wanted poster now. He started to open his mouth to speak and ask the inevitable when he was suddenly caught off by the strang….Edd.   
“So when was the last time you ate something?”

Caught off guard slightly, he-Tord-coughed loudly for a moment, causing Edd to take a worried step closer. The fit passed easily enough but as soon as it did, he was still left with a question he didn't really know the answer to. He could remember at least four different days, maybe five. But there could be an upward limit of six if he had slept for too long one day and didn’t realize. Trying to count on his fingers, he mumbled a few numbers to himself before looking back up at Edd. 

“I think it’s been about five days since I woke up like this and I haven’t eaten since then.” He couldn’t really speak about before he had woken up since he couldn’t remember but at least he had something to drink thanks to the rain. The puddles had stuck around for a bit and even though they were dirty, it was better than dehydration. Apparently, however, this wasn’t a good enough answer for his friend as Edd immediately frowned.

“Five _days?_ Okay, okay….Just don’t move at all, alright? I’m going to go make some rice and toast for you. Tonight maybe you can have some soup or something but….five days?” He had started to walk towards the doorway he had come from, only to stop short and turn around. His voice had grown louder and he seemed a bit more agitated now with the information of how long he had been inside that alley. It was probably a good idea he hadn't told him he wasn't actually certain about that number and it could very easily be longer than that. “Were you out on the street that entire time?” Somewhat afraid of answering out loud, Tord slowly nodded once. 

“During that lightning storm?”

Nod.

“All by yourself?”

Nod.

He watched silently as Edd walked back over to the sofa and, quite suddenly, he was suffocating in a warm, soft embrace. Stiffening like a board at the touch, Tord waited silently until he was released and Edd placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in some attempt to…reassure him? Was that it? 

“I’m sorry. I’m going to go make you some food and then you can get a shower and we can work on changing those bandages. You can sleep on the couch or on my bed if you want to but you need to rest to get over this cold and heal properly.” There was a pause as he moved into what he had to assume to be where the kitchen was before his head poked back out again. 

“You can stay here as long as you want to, alright? My home has always been your home."

And with that Edd vanished into the kitchen. Looking down at the cat once more again, Tord reached out slowly and scratched it behind the ears. He felt exhausted but, at the same time, he didn't really feel like he could sleep again. That, or he just didn't want to. He hadn't really thought about how much time had passed him by until Edd had asked. Moving his hand away from the cat's ears, he coughed loudly into his fist, his mind wandering off.

Plus, even if he didn't want to admit it, he didn't really feel alright about this entire set up. The entire reason he had been in the alleyway in the first place was because he didn't trust people. He had no memories of himself and it would be remarkably easy to just lie to him. He'd have to assume it was the truth right? He was apparently a criminal and he'd need to be cautious about who knew where he was or else the police would be after him right away.   
Maybe he was just being skeptical. Maybe he was being overly cautious. But it didn't change the fact something in the back of his head was nagging him about this entire setup. It could very well just be a headache or something akin to that due to his illness, but he'd just have to get more information. When Edd came back he was going to ask about the wanted poster and the gun. If they knew each other and were friends, he would have to know something about both of those things.

Right?


	5. Panic! In the Bathroom

It didn’t take long at all before Edd returned, carrying a small plate of toast in one hand and a bowl of steaming rice in the other. There wasn’t a table in the room but he didn’t seem to mind, instead simply sitting down in the small space between Tord’s feet and the other side of the couch. Immediately, the grey cat lifted its head and stood up, walking across Tord’s legs and curling up in Edd’s lap instead. While admittedly disappointed, the freed space meant he could accept the warm bowl from Edd and rest it in his lap quite comfortably. “It’s a bit bland,” Edd said, scratching his cat’s chin. “But it’ll be better if you don’t have to throw up later.” 

“Thank you,” Tord replied, his mind still stuck on the questions he wanted to ask. Starting with the gun was probably the best thing, especially since it was nagging him the most. He had woken up with that broken hunk of metal. While it seemed worthless, maybe it could shed some light on something related to how he lost his memory. Beyond that though, he felt wrong without it. He didn’t want it just left somewhere where anyone would be able to pick it up and make off with it. “Would you happened to have picked up the gun that was with me?” He asked, grasping the fork sticking out of the bowl with his left hand, but didn’t actually lift out of the rice. “It was red and had a huge hole in one side. Missing a lot of wires and metal on the inside.”

“Oh, you mean your memory eraser gun?” Edd responded, picking up a piece of toast off the small plate and taking a bite out of it. “I put it on the kitchen table.” 

“What?” Tord responded, dumbfounded by this answer. A memory eraser gun? What the hell was that? As far as he knew, that kind of thing didn’t exist. The closest thing you could probably get would be a memory eraser baseball bat but that would just be a normal bat used on heads instead of baseballs. Head trauma sometimes caused memory loss, after all. Was a memory eraser gun supposed to be a common thing? He could remember cars in terms of technology but maybe he was missing some information about common objects used thanks to his memory loss.

“Yeah, I had to go back for it and the bag of cola I bought after I dropped it off. I put it on the table so Ringo wouldn’t go near it.”

“No,” Tord replied, rubbing the right side of his forehead with his left hand, leaving the bowl of rice lying in his lap, untouched and uneaten. His stomach had stopped making noises several days ago and at this point, the pain was normal and easier to suppress. Sure some part of him knew it was better to eat and wanted to eat something, but his curiosity was getting the better of him here. “I mean what is that? What is a memory eraser gun?” 

“It’s a gun,” Edd replied, setting the plate of toast down on the arm of the couch, balancing it carefully so he could resume petting his cat. “That makes you lose all your memories.” He glanced down at the bowl of rice in Tord’s lap before looking back up at him, a slight frown creeping onto his face. “You need to eat. The most important thing right now is that you get better. You can’t do that unless you eat a little.” He nodded towards the bowl and Tord looked down, staring at the rice nestled in his lap. He knew he had to eat. He wasn’t trying to avoid it or anything like that. He just wanted his questions answered, that was all. Of course, Edd’s logic was sound. Lifting his left arm again, he grasped the fork again and began to move the rice around in the bowl. 

“Yes, but,” He started to say, still looking at the rice before a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Flinching back slightly at the contact even though it had not been on his injured shoulder, he glanced up at Edd before looking away, staring back down at the rice in his lap. 

“I know you have a lot of questions but at least eat first, okay? You don’t need to scramble to try to learn everything all at once. Take some time and make sure you are actually well first.” 

— — 

He hadn’t eaten all that much of the rice before his throat started to feel weird and his stomach began to twist, leaving him with still half of the already small bowl left over. After deciding this was apparently enough food for him for the time being, Edd pulled him into the bathroom and had him sit down on the edge of the tub. He complied without protest and sat somewhat awkwardly on the small rim, his arm hanging at his side as he looked back at Edd for instructions and guidance.

“It’s tile in here so it’ll be easier to clean up,” He explained as he looked towards Tord’s right arm. “May I?” He asked. After a small pause Tord nodded once and his hand was gently grasped and his arm lifted up. Moving slowly, he lifted a small pair of scissors and began to cut through the bandages, snipping the bloodstained cloth away from his arm starting at the wrist. Layers upon layers of fabric fell to the floor as they were cut away, slowly, up to his elbow. About halfway up he began to see the first real signs of injury. A huge gash sliced across his arm. It was jagged around the edges from what he could see and he could see some kind of dark red striping across a portion of it. It took him a moment before he realized they were metal staples stuck into his arm that had been stained dark red by his own blood. Another cut revealed more of the gash and more blood and more….and more….

His breath caught in his throat as he abruptly pulled away, jerking his arm back towards his chest. “Stop,” He whispered, holding his own wrist below the bandages and the injuries that had been revealed. He couldn’t do this. He felt sick just looking at his own blood. He couldn’t stand to see what had been under the bandages. His stomach twisted around at just the thought of looking at it. He felt dizzy and light headed. 

“Tord.”

He couldn’t breathe again. It was just like before, but without the thunder and lightning. But when he looked down at his arm and saw red and the staples, he couldn’t breathe. His entire body tensed up as a hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. Looking up, his vision blurred briefly before he managed to focus on Edd. 

“Tord, it’s alright.”

“No,” He choked out in response as another hand patted his back reassuringly. He held his own arm close, refusing to allow Edd to get closer to him. He didn’t want anyone to touch his arm. It would be fine as long as nobody touched it.

“I promise Tord, you’re going to be fine.”

“Don’t touch me,” Tord replied faintly, squeezing his eyes shut. Immediately the hand on his shoulder and the one on his back were removed, leaving him sitting on his own again. After a moment he cracked open an eye, daring to look at what Edd was doing. He had taken to sitting down on the floor, watching him carefully but no longer getting as close or touching him.

“Tord, it’s alright. I won’t remove any more of the bandages, okay? I just need you to breathe.”

Nodding at the reminder, he sucked in a sharp breath. It was fine. He was alright. The bandages could stay on for now. What was one or two extra days? This hadn’t been nearly as bad as the storm but it was still scary to think of how close he had come to experiencing the same thing again. 

“I just need a moment alone,” Tord whispered. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes again and listened silently as the door to the bathroom opened, then creaked closed before finally shutting with a soft thud. He knew he'd have to take the bandages off eventually. The injury could be dangerous if left untreated. But how was he supposed to do that if he couldn't even stand to look at his own arm without panicking? Slowly standing, he shuffled over to the wall and hit the light switch, plunging the bathroom into darkness. Sitting down on the floor, he cradled his right arm silently with his left. He felt a little better without the harsh bathroom lights on and with silence in the room. He just needed a few minutes and then he'd be fine. 

Just a few minutes, that was all.


	6. Wash Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little late on this, sorry!

He didn’t know how long it had been when he finally felt well enough to leave the bathroom. Although, well wasn’t exactly the right term for it. Even if his heart had settled down and he could move again, he felt exhausted again. For all the sleep he seemed to be getting recently, he was constantly plagued by the desire for even more sleep. Still, he managed to resist the urge to just curl up in a ball on the bathroom floor and fall asleep on the cold, soothing tile. 

It wasn’t a matter of comfort since he had spent the last week or so out on the streets and the tile was much less scratchy than concrete.

It wasn’t a matter of rest since it was clear he would have very much liked to have slept on the tile with the hope he would have been less tired, but the understanding he would likely just wake up more exhausted than ever.

It was more that he realized he wasn’t the only person in the equation now. He had sent Edd away since he needed to be alone to calm down, but staying in the bathroom longer than necessary might have made him worried. 

It was weird thinking from the perspective of others. After a few days of thinking only about himself, he was suddenly thrown into a situation where there was another person. Sure it was someone he had realistically known for less than a day, but he had still cared about him enough to drag him out of the streets and give him food and try to patch him up, even if Tord himself wasn’t ready for that. 

It had been less than a day but he really couldn’t help but view Edd as a friend. 

_His friend._

So he turned the knob and slowly opened the door to the bathroom, letting the dark room fill with light from the outside hall. Flinching away from the harsh lights slightly, he waited for his eyes to adjust before he stepped forward and looked down the hall for any sign of the tell-tale green hoodie. However, instead of finding him, he instead found a small pile of clean clothes on the ground. It wasn’t his red hoodie, unfortunately, but instead a neatly-folded green hoodie, a grey shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Bending down, he lifted up the pile with his left hand and looked it over before slowly lifting his right hand to pick up a piece of paper that had been left on top.

_Sorry_

_-Edd_

Tord frowned, his eyes narrowing at the written apology. Why? What was he apologizing for? What on Earth was Edd thinking? None of this was his fault. He was the one who was doing everything wrong here. He was the one who was weak.

He turned the paper over, his frown only growing as he read what was scrawled on the other side.  
_P.S  
Went out to get more bandages and some medicine. Will be back soon. _

For half a moment, he was tempted to prove himself. Walk back into the bathroom, snatch up the pair of scissors and cut the old, dirty bandages off himself. But even as the idea entered his mind, he found his hands shaking and his right arm aching. Moving his left hand to grasp at his shoulder, he frowned as he tried to avoid looking everywhere but the bandages. He knew this was silly. Keeping dirty, likely damp and blood-soaked bandages on his arm any longer than necessary could probably encourage an infection. No, not probably. It was guaranteed. But despite knowing this, he couldn’t bring himself to march back inside the bathroom and just take care of the matter himself. 

Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the frame of the door for a second, rounding up his thoughts again. He wasn’t going to put the clothes on yet, not until he was clean himself. He could manage that well enough, right? Stepping back into the bathroom and turning the light switch on, he placed the clothes down on the counter next to the scissors. Looking at the offending, _sharp_ tool for a moment, he paused before shifting the clothes on top of it, hiding it from sight. There, that was… a little better. At least he didn’t have to look at them now. Sighing, he turned back to the shower and turned the knob as far as it could go before slowly trying to get himself out of his own clothes. Getting the pants off were fine. His grey shirt, however, was a little bit more difficult. But finally, after about five minutes of struggle, he managed to yank the shirt off despite the protests of his right arm and toss the shirt to the floor. Keeping his arm away from the stream of water, he stepped into the tub and sighed in relief as the hot water ran down his back. That felt nice. He could easily see himself laying down in the bottom of the tub and falling asleep. But getting clean was the biggest priority so instead he stepped back further into the spray of water, closing his eyes and tilting his head back so his hair could get wet. 

— —  
Tord didn’t hear Edd return. It had taken him longer than necessary to wash up, although he was working with only one functional arm. Either way, by the time he actually exited the bathroom with fresh clothes on and the green hoodie draped over his shoulders like a cape, Edd had already returned and was humming to himself as he unpacked a large variety of medications and bottles onto the table in the kitchen. Noticing him immediately, Edd smiled as he set a bottle of painkillers down on the table. 

“You look better,” He commented as he took a box of to-go applesauce out of another bag and set it down next to the pain killers.

“I feel better,” Tord replied, only to almost immediately break out in a fit of coughing. “Well,” He started as soon as the rough bout of coughing ended. “Mostly better.”

“I got you some stuff from the store. Mostly painkillers and cough medicine, although I did pick up some other things.” He reached into one bag closest to him and pulled out a sweatshirt, holding it out to Tord. Unlike the green ones that Edd only seemed to wear, this one was bright red, not unlike the one he had been wearing up until recently. “I thought you might like this one better,” Edd said as he held out the hoodie. Carefully taking it from him, Tord paused before lifting it to his check and feeling the soft material with the side of his face. It felt nice. He hadn’t actually put on Edd’s green hoodie that had been offered to him but he liked this one much more. It felt more familiar to him, as though it was clearly his despite the fact Edd had just picked it up for him. 

“Can I put it on?” He asked, looking up at Edd as he held the hoodie close to him. 

“Sure! It’s yours, after all.”

His. Now he owned two things, technically. A broken memory eraser gun and a new, red hoodie. One was broken and useless, the other felt warm and soft. Looking at his right arm, he paused for a second before wiggling it inside the hoodie first, cringing slightly as the material dragged over the bandages and made his arm sting. But he clenched his jaw and worked through it in favor of quickly pulling the hoodie on over his head. It felt wonderful wearing it and he quickly shoved his hands into the large pocket in the front with a relaxed smile. 

“Thank you,” he said, looking back up at Edd again. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Edd said, returning his smile before he opened up a bottle of painkillers and began counting out a small number of them onto a napkin. Sitting down across from him at the table, Tord relaxed into the seat and sighed. It was slow going, but things were starting to look up for him. Sure there were things that were bothering him and issues that had to be addressed, but sitting at the kitchen table with Edd across from him, he felt….

_Happy._


	7. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay on this one! I was stuck driving for 12 hours yesterday and ended up falling asleep as soon as I got home.

“We fucked up.”

Patryk turned his head towards his companion for the briefest moment before focusing back on the red piece of scrap metal he was holding. Rolling it over in his hands, mindful of the sharp edges, he frowned before picking up a similar piece off the ground nearby. It was barely the size of the fingernail of his thumb, but each edge was incredibly sharp. If he accidentally cut himself on one of the pieces, he could have to get stitches. 

“I mean, we really fucked up. This is at least a hundred times worse than when we started the apocalypse.”

The entire field was covered in pieces of scrap metal and wire. They were largely small pieces, admittedly, so there didn’t seem to be enough to form an actual weapon out of any of them. Even if they could, trying to find all of the tiny shards amongst the blue flowers would be nearly impossible. Besides, neither of them had Red Leader’s knack for building things. At best they were pilots and they had crashed more planes than they could count at this point. 

“I mean, at least nobody died.”

Shooting a look back at Paul again, Patryk frowned as Paul shrugged, looking away pointedly, his one uncovered eye avoiding looking anywhere near Patryk. Of course that wasn’t true. Sure the apocalypse had been incredibly short, but a lot of people had lost their lives. They had almost died themselves to the massive hordes of zombies. 

“Well, nobody we cared about anyway.”

“We don’t know he’s dead,” Patryk replied softly, standing back up again as he walked over to the other pilot. Really, bodyguard was probably a better term. They were just supposed to keep Red Leader safe and they had completely failed this time around. The most important person in their army as mission in action, possibly dead, and it was all their fault. They shouldn’t have let him go out on a mission so soon after the…incident. He had still been on painkillers. They hadn’t even been able to remove the bandages from his arm yet and, even with the stitches and staples, it wouldn’t stop bleeding. It was no condition for anyone to be moving, especially not the leader of their entire movement. He should have been focused on resting and recovering. He should have just given out orders and let everyone else act instead of getting his hands dirty.

He should have…

He should have…

They should have been more outspoken about him not going. 

It had just been a tip about some stolen tech. Something someone else, anyone else, could have easily done. The tech had been old, the warehouse had been deserted for years and the price on his head had gone up significantly. But he had insisted. All but yanked the IV out of his arm and shoved his way out of the base, grumbling the entire time he pulled on his sweatshirt. 

_The_ sweatshirt. He wouldn’t wear anything else.

They shouldn’t have let him go.

“He got out of the fire,” Patryk added, letting the pieces of scrap metal fall to the ground. He couldn't get the image out of his mind. The entire warehouse burning. The windows blown out and flames hungrily licking the sky. The two of them standing there, close enough to feel the intense heat. The slow, dull realization that it was just the two of them standing there. 

Tord hadn't escaped the warehouse.

“Just because we didn’t find a corpse doesn’t mean he got out.” Paul snapped. Silence fell over the field as he scratched the side of his face, near the bandages that covered his right eye. It always seemed to itch more when he was uncomfortable or stressed out. He didn’t like this. They shouldn’t be fighting like this when everything was already so bad. Only a few seconds passed before Paul sighed and walked over to Patryk, reaching out and holding his hand reassuringly. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Patryk looked down at his hand quietly before giving Paul’s hand a small squeeze. “We’re going to find him,” He insisted softly. 

“And if we don’t?” 

“We aren’t going back.”


	8. Player Three Enters The Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter friends!

Tord bolted upright off the couch, grasping his shoulder as an intense pain jolted him out of an otherwise dead sleep. Gasping for air, he doubled over, his fingers digging into his own shoulder just above where the bandages started. Minutes crawled by before the pain finally died down to a slow burn. Slowly tearing his hand away from his shoulder, he pressed it against his forehead, closing his eyes and trying to simultaneously fight off the wave of dizziness washing over him and stop more tears from leaving the corners of his eyes. 

It was getting worse. His arm had barely hurt when he had first woken up in that field, but now it was enough to wake him up out of a dead sleep. Edd had said it was important that they removed the bandages, even if he had retracted the statement after Tord’s response to trying to cut it off. He didn’t know why he had panicked. He had just seen the scissors get close to him and dig under the bandages to cut them off. And then they were pressed up against his skin and the metal was cold and sharp and _too CLOSE GET AWAY FROM HIM._

Sucking in another breath, he grasped at the sleeve of his new hoodie, giving his bandaged arm a small squeeze. The sharp pain grounded him again and choked back a soft sob. Edd was still sleeping. He couldn’t wake him up after he had been so nice to him. At least one of them deserved to rest easy. 

Shifting his legs slowly until his feet were resting flat on the floor, he slowly moved his hand away from his arm to grasp at the blankets covering his body and push them off. It was too many, really, but Edd had insisted and kept adding more and more blankets until he was practically sweating underneath all of them. He had given him four pillows as well and still apparently had enough to sleep on himself, which brought up an entirely different question of just how many sheets Edd actually had in his apartment. After he had left Tord had just dropped two of the pillows onto the floor and slept with one under his head while holding the last pillow in a choke hold. It felt more natural sleeping that way. Two really was the perfect amount. 

Slowly finding his feet, Tord slowly wandered through the apartment, briefly passing the open door leading into the bedroom before making his way into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and, after a moment, locked it before turning his attention to the mirror above the sink. He looked awful. He’d probably be the first one to admit it since Edd was too nice for his own good and he didn’t actually know anybody else who could comment, but the lack of sleep and illness had hit him hard. There were heavy bags under his eyes and he looked wrong. Like all the color had flushed from his face all at once. His hand drifted down to his sleeve and for a brief moment he paused. The previous shirt he had been wearing had the sleeve ripped off, making it so it was next to impossible not to see his arm on a regular basis. What if it was worse now and the blood soaking through the bandages was much worse? He almost didn’t want to even check.

Clenching his jaw, he grasped his sleeve with a shaking hand and yanked it up in a sharp movement, all the way up to his elbow. The bandages started at his wrist and went all the way up to his shoulder and he could see the open section where Edd had started to cut the bandages off. Even though the opening was small, he could see the discoloration of skin and the sheen of metal underneath from the shapes. He had no idea how far up the metal pieces went or how many there were, but even from the small window it was clear his arm was in bad shape.

He really didn’t want to see more. Just leave it be. Ignore it. IF he didn’t face the problem at all did he even have to acknowledge it? The rational part of him knew, unfortunately, it didn’t work like that, but as of late that part tended to be completely overshadowed by the rest of him. Still, with shaking hands, he grasped at the frayed end of the bandage and gave it a small pull. The cloth gave way slightly, revealing more discolored skin around his wrist and a line of stitches and both dried and fresh blood and….and…

He jerked his hand away from his arm and gripped the edge of the counter, leaning forward until his forehead was resting against the cold, glass surface of the mirror. 

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe, dammit.

Reaching out, he floundered blindly for a moment before his hand grasped the sink and turned on the faucet, summoning a stream of water. Leaning down, he stuck his hand under the flow of water before slapping his cheeks with his wet hand, trying to bring himself back to his senses. The cold water helped, thankfully, and after a few moments he was able to breathe easy again, even if his heart hadn’t calmed down yet. It was fine. He was fine. He just needed to sleep it off and everything would be better in the morning.

— —

He couldn’t have been more wrong in hindsight, honestly. 

While he did manage to fall asleep again, he woke up absolutely exhausted with a fit of coughing and pain in his chest. Laying on the couch for a moment, he blinked slowly. Maybe he should just go back to bed. That was an option, right? Even if it never actually seemed to work out the way he wanted it to, sleeping seemed like the go-to thing to do here, even if it hadn’t worked for him before. He closed his eyes again and leaned back onto the pillow, grasping the blankets closer to his chest. The morning passed in a blur until he was finally startled awake again by a hand on his shoulder. Tensing, his eyes snapped open, but as soon as he saw the familiar, concerned face leaning over him he relaxed and let his eyes close again.

“Good morning, Edd.”

“You look awful,” Edd replied immediately. Tord could hear the frown in his voice, he didn’t even have to open his eyes to look at his friend. “I’m going to get you some soup. Don’t try to get up, okay?” The hand on his shoulder was gone and, for a minute, he was disappointed. Forcing his eyes open again, he stared at the ceiling breathlessly, trying not to cough again. Maybe if he sat upright it could help relieve some of the pain in his chest. Digging his hand into the cushion of the couch, he slid backwards, propping himself up on the pillow he had been sleeping on and the arm of the couch. He was facing away from the kitchen and towards the door to the apartment, meaning he couldn’t easily see what Edd was doing in the kitchen. But that didn’t stop him from trying and turning his head as far as he could to peer into the kitchen, looking for that familiar green sweatshirt his friend always wore. 

He wasn’t looking at the door when keys jingled in the lock and the door was suddenly pulled open. 

“Hey Edd, you alive in here?” An unknown voice asked as Tord nearly jumped out of his own skin and jerked back towards the door. A stranger was standing there, his attention focused on a phone he was holding in one hand. There was a brief pause before he continued, the brief silence occupied by the stranger tapping out a short message on his phone. “You missed movie night last night,” The stranger added, finally looking up from his phone. Silence fell over the apartment as Tord’s eyes locked with the stranger’s….eyes? 

They were completely black. Hell, he couldn’t even tell if they were actually eyes and not just holes. That wasn’t normal in the slightest and even just the sight of the weird eyeballs, or possibly lack thereof was enough to give him goosebumps. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his hands gripped the sheets tighter. Who was this person who had just barged into Edd’s apartment? They had to know each other, at least. Was this person friends with Edd? The hoodie they were wearing was rather similar, even if it was an ugly blue color instead of green.

Tord opened his mouth to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them with a simple greeting when, rather abruptly, the stranger darted forward. Two hands grabbed roughly at the front of his hoodie and, before he was really aware of what was going on, wind rushed passed his ears and his head smashed into the floor. His vision blurred as dizziness quickly took hold of him. The attack had happened so quickly he hadn’t been able to even respond. Even now, lying on the floor, he had no idea what to do. Everything hurt all at once but the strike to his head had left him too numb to actually cry out in pain. 

His head throbbed.

His chest ached.

His arm burned.

Coughing loudly, his left hand pressed against the stranger’s chest _Get off_ as he was pinned against the ground, hands holding the collar of his hoodie tight while a knee was shoved somewhere between his ribs. _He couldn’t breathe._ He was still coughing and with this unknown man pinning him down, he couldn’t even try to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware of someone yelling but the noise was muffled by the rushing in his ears, as if a wall of water stood between him and whoever was screaming. But when the stranger leaned in close and hissed out a question, his words were crystal clear and absolutely soaked with malice. _Why?_

 

“What are you doing here, Tord?"


	9. Tom is an Asshole Part 2: Stop Talking Before Edd Suplexes You Into the Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, chapter is up earlier today! I hope you guys like it!

He didn’t answer. Well, really, he couldn’t. It was a bit hard to talk when he couldn’t get enough air to actually form the words, or even think straight. So he moved his hand again, pressing it against the stranger’s shoulder and trying to push him off. He needed air. 

“I asked you a question.”

Tord groaned as his hand was grabbed roughly by the wrist and slammed into the floor near his head. The action had by no means been gentle and now his shoulder and wrist joined the list of things that hurt like hell. Without the use of his left arm, and with his right still useless, there wasn’t any way he could get the stranger off of him. Maybe if he had been healthier or stronger he could have tried to use his legs. But that just wasn’t a possibility right now.

_He couldn’t breathe._

The knee dug deeper into his chest and his ribs groaned under the stress. The hand holding the front of his hoodie was uncomfortably close to his throat and every time he tried to breathe he could feel it there, uncomfortable and foreign. The question he had been asked rattled around in his head but even if he knew the answer, he wouldn’t have been able to muster up the words. 

_He couldn’t see._

The face looming above him blurred between tears. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on getting in enough air. He could taste metal in his mouth. This felt…familiar. Uncomfortably so. He feel his heart beating in his throat. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel that strange sense of dizziness like the word was spinning around him. 

_He couldn’t move._

He could feel his body shaking now under the weight of the stranger. When the man had first entered the apartment he hadn’t realized how much bigger he was. But now that he was on the ground with the stranger towering above him, he felt small. He couldn’t get away. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. He wanted to….He wanted to….

“TOM, STOP!”

And just like that the pressure on his chest was gone and the hands grasping his hoodie and wrist were gone. Sucking in a breath, Tord’s eyes snapped open. Gasps quickly turned into coughs as he rolled onto his side, hands wrapped around his chest where the knee had been pressed against his ribs. The stranger was standing a few feet away from him, looking no less angry than when he had first attacked him. But now Edd was between them, hands pressed against the stranger’s chest, keeping him at a distance. Edd, who had already come to his rescue once before, was now rescuing him yet again. Every time the stranger tried to step around him, Edd moved to follow, refusing to allow him to pass by. Closing his eyes, he slowly blinked before lifting a hand to wipe his nose. It was bleeding. Probably from having his head smashed against the floor after being dragged off the couch. That explained the metallic taste in his mouth.

His shaking hand pressed against the ground and his fingers dug into the carpet as he forced his trembling body upright. Climbing to his feet, he pressed a hand against the wall, trying to ground himself on something more stable than he was so he wouldn’t just crash right back down to the floor. As he did so, the stranger turned towards Edd and scowled as he spoke.

“Edd, what are you doing? Are you forgetting what he did the last time he was here? Why are you protecting him?” 

He sounded angry. But even though Edd was clearly shorter than the stranger he didn’t look in any way frightened and instead remained stubbornly rooted between Tord and the other man. Protecting him. Making sure he was safe. 

“He doesn’t remember anything, Tom! If you calm down for two minutes we can all just talk this over like normal, civilized people."

They were talking about _him_. Those creepy black eyes shifted away from Edd and instead turned to stare at him, sending chills running down Tord’s spine. What had he done? It had to be something bad if the first reaction this person had to seeing him was to attack him. Did that mean they knew each other? Questions filled his head one after another as the man turned back to look at Edd.

“Hey, I’m not the one who blew up our house! He tried to kill us! You want me to just forgive him because he can’t remember anything? How do you know he’s not just lying to you?”

_What?_

“He’s _injured_ , Tom. I found him starving in an alleyway! He could have died.”

_Wait._

“It would have been better if he did.”

_WAIT._

He was slipping. A few moments later he was sitting on the ground, staring at Edd’s back. They were still talking, practically yelling at one another now but he couldn't hear it anymore. He did….He did what? The questions that had filled his head before all disappeared at once, leaving him with just the horrible realization of what they had said. 

He had known about the wanted poster, of course. It was one of the first things he had found and while it hadn’t made if out of the alleyway with him, it was the reason he had ended up in there in the first place. He had hidden from sight to avoid a potential run in with the authorities. He had known he had done something wrong to warrant…well, to warrant a warrant. But he hadn’t known what. It was a question he had wanted to answer for a long time to give some clue to who he had been before now. It had given him a name to go off of, even if it hadn’t been his actual name. 

But he had never really made the personal connection to what the wanted poster meant. He knew he had done something wrong but he never considered the possibility he had tried to hurt someone.

He never considered the possibility he had tried to hurt _Edd._

_A lifeless body laying under him._

Burying his head in his hands, he choked back a sob as he tried to ignore the images forming in his head. No. He didn't want to think about it.

_A green hoodie stained red._

Focus. Imagine anything else. Please.

_Laughing. He was laughing._

Not Edd. Not his friend.

Gentle fingers touched his shoulder but he immediately recoiled away, inching back closer to the wall. He couldn’t right now. He just…couldn’t. The hand was gone immediately and, after a pause, Edd spoke up again. 

“Hallway. Now.” The voices faded away as Edd dragged the stranger outside the apartment and the door closed behind them with a click. Silence fell over the apartment as Tord was left alone in the corner of the living room, huddled into a tight ball, his back against the wall. It didn’t take long for the small sobs to break through the silence despite his best attempts to hold them back.

It was quiet.

It was suffocating.


	10. Tom is an Asshole Part 3: Apartment Walls Are Notoriously Thin We Can All Hear You Yelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE GUYS THIS WEEKEND WAS SWAMPED FOR ME PLEASE FORGIVE ME

The quiet didn’t last long.

Forceful whispers in the hallway quickly escalated to aggressive inside voices, only to leap again to downright combative talking. It didn’t take long before the walls of the apartment shook with shouts. The wall hardly muffled the exchange between Edd and the stranger at this point, leaving Tord to press his hands against his ears to try to block out the noise. 

“Don’t be rude, Tom! He needs our help!”

“ _I’m_ being rude? What about him? He’s the bad guy, Edd!”

“He can’t even remember that! He deserves a second chance!"

“Oh no, he doesn’t get to weasel his way out of this one. Just because he’s forgotten what he’s done doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”

“I haven’t forgotten I just-“

“And what if he’s lying, Edd? What if he’s just tricking us _again_.”

“Just stop-“

“I’ve learned my lesson, even if you haven’t. This isn’t going to go down the same way as last time.”

“Don’t yell at me Tom.”

"I’m not going to be the one to leave this time either. Get him out of here or I’m going to kick him out myself.”

“ _Tom, stop._ "

The conversation suddenly screeched to a halt like it had crashed in brick wall. Whispers started back up again after an agonizingly long silence but didn’t escalate any further. He couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore, the voices were too soft. But it didn’t matter. They had said enough already. He had hurt Edd. He didn’t need to know any more than that. What kind of awful person hurt their friend? He gripped his right shoulder tightly, his teeth clenching tightly together until his jaw began to ache. 

Maybe it would be better if he just left.

Even though the thought had appeared in an instant, it refused to leave. He had hurt Edd, and this stranger too. He didn’t deserve to stay near them. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But if he couldn’t help it, what he wanted made no difference. Maybe it was just in his nature.

The door creaked open but Tord didn’t look up. It was quiet again, but he could hear the floor groan softly under footsteps. Was it Edd? The stranger from before? Or someone entirely new? The footsteps paused for a moment and the room was silent once more. The talking in the hallway had stopped a long time ago. 

“Tord?”

It was Edd, then. That was good to know. At least he wasn’t going to get slammed into the floor again. The footsteps resumed and suddenly there was a weight on his back _A blanket_. With a thud Edd sat down on the ground nearby and let out a soft sigh. 

“I’m sorry about Tom. He’s not the friendliest guy around.” There was a small pause before a hand came to rest on his shoulder reassuringly. _A hand stained red with blood. STOP. DON’T TOUCH ME._ “It’s okay, he’s not going to hurt you again. He is going to come over later tonight so we can all talk, though.” 

“Okay.”

Edd sighed loudly before moving his hand to Tord’s back and patting him gently. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.” Tord didn’t immediately respond this time, instead taking time to grasp the ends of the blanket and pull it tighter around him, wrapping himself in a cocoon of soft fabric. What he said next was muffled partially by the blanket, but it was still clear enough for Edd to hear him.

_“I’m sorry.”_

The hand patting his back paused and for a moment he felt alone again, but it returned a few seconds later and came to rest on his shoulder again. 

“Don’t apologize to me,” Edd replied and even if he couldn’t see it, Tord could hear the smile in his voice. He was so nice. He was too nice. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I hurt you,” Tord replied, looking up again at Edd. His eyes were red from tears and he felt on the verge of breaking down all over again. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to leave. But he already had hurt people. Just because he couldn’t remember it didn’t pardon his actions. It was a lousy excuse at best. Sniffing, he rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand and looked away again, staring at the floor instead. But he didn’t get long to brood before Edd pulled him into a tight hug. 

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do. It felt awkward, sudden and weird. A part of him wanted to get out, reestablish personal space and put up physical barriers against people touching him. But a part of him insisted that he couldn’t push Edd away now. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to hurt Edd. He could trust him. Hesitantly, after a small delay of trying to sort out his scrambled thoughts, he slowly lifted up his own arms and hugged him back. He couldn’t really help it anymore. Sniffing, he buried his head into Edd’s shoulder, trying to stop himself from crying all over again. 

“I told you it’s okay,” Edd repeated, patting Tord’s back. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Tord whispered back, repeating it over and over again until his voice grew hoarse and cracked. “I’m sorry.”

— — 

He wore a red hoodie. 

Edd wore a green hoodie. 

The stranger-Tom-wore a blue hoodie. 

The three of them were sitting around the table in Edd’s kitchen and it was safe for Tord to admit that now, staring across the table at Tom, Tord did not like the color blue. 

Honestly, Edd sitting there was probably the only thing stopping Tom from launching himself across the table at him. Every muscle in his body looked tense and he looked flushed with anger. Tord could swear he could see smoke rising out of his ears at one point, but every time he looked ready to open his mouth Edd would reach out an tap his arm. And that was enough for Tom to huff but turn away and hold his silence.

Rather surprisingly, it was Tord whose patience wore out first and he who broke the uncomfortable silence at the table. Turning to look at Edd, he rubbed his right shoulder and did his best not to make eye contact with Tom. He seemed to get angrier every time he looked at him.

“What are we doing?” He finally asked, his shoulders rising to his ears. It was too quiet, again. As much as he didn’t like loud noises and booming voices, the silence seemed worse. It dragged on. It was never ending. It felt uncomfortable and thick and agonizing. 

“We’re waiting for Matt,” Edd replied. Which, of course, answered everything and nothing at the same time. Who was Matt? Was he important? Why were they waiting for him? 

“He’s always late,” Tom all but snarled, having taken to tapping his fingers on the table now. “He lives right down the hall how does he manage to be late every single time?” 

Well, at least it was nice knowing that he wasn’t the only one Tom got angry at. Edd wasn’t lying when he said Tom wasn’t the friendliest guy around. 

Thankfully, the awkwardness didn’t last much longer as there was a knock at the door and Edd quickly climbed to his feet and hurried to go answer the call. Almost as soon as Edd had his back turned to the table Tom suddenly turned to stare at him and in an agonizingly slow motion dragged his pointer finger across his neck. Recoiling slightly, Tord blinked as Tom looked up, adopting a seemingly indifferent look as Edd returned to the table with a new person in tow, leaving Tord absolutely baffled by the sudden gesture. He wasn’t given much time to dwell on it, however, as the new person he could only assume was ‘Matt’ offered up a wave and a greeting to each of them. He was wearing a purple hoodie, but also a green overcoat. Huh. Was it deliberate they all wore hoodies? Why did Matt wear a coat and a hoodie, didn't he get hot?

“Howdy Tim! Hey Todd!”

“It’s Tom,” the man across the table grumbled back as he pulled a flask out of his hoodie and began to drink whatever he had filled it up with. Did that mean Todd was supposed to be him? Deciding it was better to leave it be than be wrong, Tord just waved back and fell silent as ‘Matt’ joined them at the table, sitting down opposite from Edd and acting as yet another divider between him and Tom. Well, that was nice at least. From his first impression Matt seemed pretty nice. At least he wasn’t going to get hit.

Hopefully.

“Right, we’re all here!” Edd declared, clapping his hands together. “Let’s establish some ground rules first. No yelling, period. No hitting either. And Tom, no harpoons.”

“What?” Tom responded, looking personally offended for a brief moment before taking another swig from his flask and settling back down into indifference. Harpoons? Was that really a thing? Was it meant to be some kind of inside joke or was he really going to try to spear him with a harpoon? 

He was starting to feel lightheaded. 

“Anyway,” Edd declared as Tord lifted up a hand to rub his own forehead. “We’re just here to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Tom replied immediately, turning his head away from the table with the scowl. 

“Tom, I told you not to be rude,” Edd responded with a frown. 

“It’s alright,” Tord replied with a smile and a wave of his hand. “If it’s all the same I think I’m just going to try to take a shower. You three can talk without me.” It was better that way anyway. Even if it was only four people all together, the crowd felt much larger and much more uncomfortable now. Even if he had taken a shower earlier in the day, it was an excuse to lock himself in the bathroom for a while and enjoy space from Tom and Matt. Well, mostly Tom, admittedly.

“Are you sure?” Edd asked and Tord nodded, offering up a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I think its for the best.” 

None of the other three protested as he made his way out of the kitchen and walked into the bathroom. Closing and locking the door behind him, he turned on the shower quietly but didn’t get in, instead letting the steam build up in the room. Tom didn’t like him, that was clear. Matt was a complete and utter mystery so far but he had only known him for under five minutes so there was much more to learn about him. It was strange to think at some time these people were his friends. At least in Tom’s case, he certainly didn’t act like it.

He couldn’t blame them, though. If he had hurt them in the past, the only thing he could try to do was get them to forgive him. That was the best place to start. 

_Forgiveness._


	11. You Should Probably Get That Cough Looked At Buddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might actually be a record for the longest chapter I've written so far.

When he did finally leave the bathroom, it was dark again. Huh. He hadn’t realized it was that late. But looking back, he had spent most of the morning just repeatedly dozing off after his late night in the bathroom. And after he had finally managed to wake up, he had been suddenly attacked by Tom. Then came the awkward dinner, which he had only spent a few minutes at before deciding to bail. There wasn’t a clock or timer in the bathroom and nobody came to stop him or tell him to get out so he had just accidentally spent the rest of the night in the bathroom. 

His second day in Edd’s apartment had been pretty stressful, though. The shower was a nice reprieve, at least.

He paused for a moment, staring out the window in the kitchen. It was weird thinking in terms of days. It had only been a week since he had woken up but it felt so much longer than that. The early days meshed together in an awkward lump and even now, looking back with a much clearer mind than he had in those first few days, he wasn’t sure how long it had been. He told Edd it had been five days. It could have easily been longer, he just had no way of knowing. But the time he had spent in the gutter felt so far away now. Even if he could still physically feel the repercussions of his time there, it felt so distant. 

He coughed.

His chest hurt.

Turning away from the window, he quietly walked around the apartment. Matt and Tom had left, likely some time ago. Walking to Edd’s bedroom, he silently pushed open the door until it was open just far enough that he could peer inside. The lights were off but he could see well enough through the small amount of light provided by the hallway. Edd was lying on his bed, safely tucked in and sleeping peacefully. Not wanting to intrude, Tord slowly closed the door until it was only just cracked open. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he walked down the short hallway back into the entry room where the couch was. He was exhausted, yes. But he didn’t know if he could actually sleep. 

His stomach grumbled at him softly, reminding him that he hadn’t actually eaten anything but a small bit of soup after Tom left. How long had it been since then, a few hours? He really needed to get his hands on a watch so he could keep track of these kinds of things. Or maybe he could start keeping a journal to record when he did specific things. It was a shame he hadn’t kept a journal from before. If he could just read about what he had done before his memory was wiped, it would be much easier, wouldn’t it? Well, it was never too late to start, was it? Maybe in the morning he could ask Edd about it.

Glancing towards the kitchen, he frowned but decided against it. He didn’t want to rummage around in someone else’s house while they were asleep. Besides, his hunger wasn’t that pressing. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone to sleep hungry, after all. Laying down on the couch, he quietly turned on the TV, making sure it was on mute before flipping to a random channel. It didn’t take long before the silent images on the screen lulled him into closing his eyes.

— — 

He didn’t remember falling asleep but that was starting to be the norm, wasn’t it? Cracking open his eyes, he squinted up at the light before reaching out, pushing the blanket he couldn’t remember actually grabbing off his body. The TV had been turned off and he could hear someone humming from the kitchen. Edd was awake, then. He climbed to his feet slowly, feeling unusually heavy. Like someone had replaced his legs with hunks of lead. 

“Edd?” He called out, dragging himself into the kitchen. Nobody was there. Frowning, he hesitated before more humming caught his attention. Turning, he slowly walked towards the short hallway leading to the bedroom and the bathroom, each step feeling sluggish and slow. “Edd?” He asked again as he found himself standing in front of the bathroom. He could still hear the humming. It was louder now, in fact.

“Are you in there?” Tord asked, knocking on the door. His knuckle barely even grazed it before the door swung open with a creak. The lights were off and he was vaguely aware the humming had stopped. Frowning, he reached out, floundering around in the inky blackness for the light switch. Light filled the room but he almost wished it hadn’t. 

Edd was lying on the floor.

_No._

The room was covered in red.

_No, no._

His hands were covered in red.

_No, no, no!_

He dropped a gun he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

_Stop!_

The room faded away to red.

_STOP!_

Someone was screaming

Everything was red.

He was screaming.

_NONONONONONONONONONO!_

 

He woke up.

 

His eyes snapped open with a start and he floundered for a moment before falling off the couch, landing hard on his elbows. Pain immediately flared up in his right arm and he groaned, rolling onto one side to cradle his injury. He could feel his heart thumping loudly in his throat, his ears, his head. But there wasn’t any blood on his hands. It had just been a nightmare.

It wasn’t real.

It hadn’t been real.

After a moment of laying on the floor he slowly climbed to his feet, resting his hand on the couch to help him stand. Glancing back at the TV, he sighed before picking up the remote and turning it off. The room fell into darkness and he took a moment to try to calm himself down. It was a nightmare. He knew it wasn’t real now. 

But….

But he still found himself walking down the hallway to Edd’s room and pushing the door open again. Just to make sure. Stepping inside the dark room, he rubbed his right elbow and squinted in the darkness. Nothing had changed, thankfully. Edd was still there, fast asleep on his bed. Hesitating, Tord slowly stepped forward, and sat on the foot of the bed. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. He was worried about having the same nightmare all over again. Resting his head in his hands, he waited a few minutes in the darkness before laying down at the foot of the bed, curling into a tight ball. He wouldn’t stay for long. He just need a few minutes where he wasn’t alone, by himself, in the dark. 

He just needed a few minutes…

He just needed…

…..

— — 

Light shined in through a window, cast almost perfectly across his face. Flinching, Tord raised a hand to cover his face, rolling away from the light and onto his side. His eyes slowly opened and he planed a hand on the bed, slowly lifting himself up. It took him a moment before it dawned on him he was still laying at the foot of Edd’s bed. He had fallen asleep there on accident. Jerking upright, he almost bolted right out of the bed right then and there, only to burst into a fit of loud coughing instead. 

“Easy, buddy.”

There was a hand on his back now, patting him periodically while he coughed. When the fit was finally over Edd helped him off the bed and to his feet before offering a bowl of soup with a smile. “I made you some soup. Matt’s coming over today and I thought you two could watch a movie or something while I go buy some more groceries.” 

Matt. Right, that was the one with the purple hoodie. It was a good thing his friends were color coordinated and there were only three of them. It would have been a lot more difficult trying to remember everyone’s name if there were more of them and they wore similar outfits. 

Taking the bowl from Edd, he followed his friend into the kitchen so he could eat without worrying about spilling it on Edd’s bed. The fact he had slept on the foot of Edd’s bed wasn’t brought up at all as Edd instead began to focus on feeding his cat, then cleaning up the kitchen. The topic of what was discussed the previous night wasn’t mentioned either, leaving an odd silence to fall over the apartment as he ate. 

Thankfully, the sound of the door opening disrupted the silence before it could become too stifling. Turning around quickly, Tord tensed up briefly but relaxed when he saw the purple sweatshirt and orange hair of the visitor.

“Howdy neighbors!” Matt declared as he closed the door behind him. He was holding a DVD case in one hand and smiled as he walked through the living area into the kitchen. “Ready for a movie? I brought Return of the Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell 4!” 

“Hey Matt!” Edd replied cheerfully before looking to Tord. “Perfect, you used to love that movie! I’ll make some popcorn for you two before I leave.” 

“Yay, popcorn!” Matt declared, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

“Really?” Tord asked, sounding a little skeptical. The movie certainly sounded interesting but he couldn’t remember anything about it. If it was the fourth movie would he even like it without watching the first three? Well, if he liked it before, he had to like it now, right? And watching a movie was something friends did. Even if Edd wasn’t going to stick around for it, he could try to befriend Matt. At the very least he could pretend to like it so they could be better friends by the end of it. “If you say so,” He replied, pushing his chair away from the table and standing upright. He carried his bowl to the sink and gave it a quick rinse before placing the bowl and the spoon into the dishwasher. Wiping his hands off with a paper towel, he followed Matt to the TV and sat down. A few moments later, having put the DVD in the player, Matt joined him on the sofa and started the movie.

It was…interesting for sure. There wasn’t actually that much exposition and the short bit of it that actually put forth an effort was mostly just for show and very cheesy. Something about a couple on a cruise ship that was infested with zombies. That were also pirates.

Well, people probably didn’t watch these types of films for the story anyway. 

“Here you go!” Edd declared, plopping a bowl of popcorn in between them before making his way behind the couch to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” And with that he was gone, the door quickly shutting behind him. Tord frowned slightly but turned his attention back to the TV.

The next few minutes of the movie were somewhat boring. There wasn’t much action from the zombies and it was more about the couples actually getting on the cruise where they would ultimately meet their doom. But the movie at least knew it’s audience and spent only a short time on that. Only ten minutes into the film did the zombies actually get around to killing someone on the pirate ship. 

A spray of fake blood flew across the screen as the camera zoomed in to focus on the woman who had been attacked. Tord tensed in his seat as completely ridiculous amounts of blood flowed from the bite mark on the woman’s head. People were screaming, some man was talking about how he hadn’t ordered a zombie head for dinner and the camera focused on the dying woman again.

The world started to swim around him. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tord tightly gripped his right arm, feeling the spike of pain as he put pressure on his injury. He knew it was fake. He knew it wasn’t real. But he felt lightheaded all the same. Just like when he had tried to cut the bandages off his arm. But this time the feeling didn’t fade, even though he had tried closing his eyes. A few short seconds later he suddenly lurched forward, falling off the couch and hitting the floor. 

— — 

“-don’t know what to do he just fell down!”

“Stop freaking out Matt.”

“BUT WHAT IF HE’S DEAD HE JUST FELL OVER!"

“Did you try taking his pulse.”

Tord opened his eyes slowly, blinking under the harsh light. Two people were standing over him, but it took a moment for the swimming shapes to actually form recognizable features. Purple and blue blocks formed into sweatshirts, giving the two figures actual identities. 

_Tom and Matt_.

“Look, he’s awake,” Tom declared, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You don’t need me anymore. I’m going back to sleep.” With that he left Tord’s line of sight and, a moment later, a door slammed shut. Groaning, Tord slowly lifted himself upright until he was sitting, cradling his head with one hand while the other kept him propped up. His head hurt. Well, everything hurt, but his head hurt more than usual.

“What happened?” He asked, squinting up at Matt. 

“I don’t know you just fell over all of a sudden!” 

Well, that explained why his head hurt. Rubbing his forehead, he blinked a few times, trying to sort out his thoughts. After a moment he looked up at Matt again, slowly lowering his hand. “How long was I out?” 

“A couple minutes maybe. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tord replied, insisting that fact to himself. He was fine. He _was_ fine. It was just a movie. He could get through it. “Let’s keep watching.” Matt was silent for a few moments before offering up a smile and hooking his arm under Tord’s, pulling him off the ground and towards the door.

“Why don’t we go to my apartment instead? I can show you my new novelty toy collection!” 

“But what about the movie?” Tord asked, looking back towards the TV. Someone had paused it on someone who was clearly about to be eaten by zombies. At least there was no blood. 

“My novelty toy collection is waaaaaay cooler than that movie! Come on, I’ll show you!”

Before he could protest, he was already being dragged out the doorway and into the adjacent apartment. Oh, he lived right next door? That was convenient, wasn’t it? Before too long he was sitting on the floor in Matt’s apartment, watching as the orange-haired man produced more and more little toys that looked like they should be sitting on an office desk somewhere. 

And while he wouldn’t admit it later, he did have a lot of fun.


	12. That One Chapter That Isn't Actually That Angsty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear here and now I will have Matt call Tom by every single name under the sun except his actual one you mark my words.
> 
> And then since Tord can't remember his name either they'll both be doing it.

Lifting up a pretend potted plant that bobbed back and forth, Tord frowned and gently flicked the flower, prompting it to rock back and forth much faster for a few moments before it fell back into its normal rhythm. The dancing flower didn’t seem like something worthy of collecting, really, but Matt seemed happy enough so he didn’t say anything. To each his own, after all. Everyone was entitled to like different things and he couldn’t expect everyone to like the things he enjoyed.

Besides, at least Matt knew what he liked. 

“What’s wrong, buddy?” 

Tord glanced up from the flower as it wiggled back and forth in an almost irritating fashion, focusing on Matt again. Oh, he had been saying something, hadn’t he? Cracking a smile, Tord shook his head, placing the toy back on the floor in front of him. His left hand drifted to the wrist of his right hand on instinct, cradling his injured arm.

“Oh, sorry Matt. What did you say?” 

Instead of answering immediately, the other man glanced at Tord’s right arm. With the new sweatshirt Edd have given him the bandages were no longer visible, which was great in his books. It meant he didn’t have any unnecessary attention drawn to himself. Well, it would have been easier without the injuries on his face but he didn’t really think about that as much. After all, his face didn’t hurt as much as his arm did. Still, the obvious look towards his injury did make him a little uncomfortable. What was he looking for? Was there blood leaking through? 

“I said this one is the latest addition,” Matt finally said, moving his attention away from Tord’s arm and holding up a small monkey with cymbals attached to each hand. But more strange was the odd green skin and what looked like stitches across its body. Which was understandable given it was a stuffed toy but given its complexion, it did look awfully like a zombie. “His name is Little Tom!” 

“Do you name all of your toys after your friends?” Tord asked, deciding it was best not to actually touch the weird looking toy. It kinda creeped him out. It looked a little too much like the zombies in the movie they just watched. Or, watched about ten minutes of it before he passed out at the first real zombie attack. Hadn’t Edd said that was his favorite movie? He certainly wasn’t living up to who he used to be if that was the case.

“What? You mean Ted?” 

“I thought his name was Tom. Maybe it was Tim?”

“Something with a T, yeah.” 

Great, between the two of them they couldn’t even remember one guy’s name. Wasn’t Matt supposed to be his friend? I mean, in this situation it made sense he couldn’t remember the guy’s name. He didn’t remember much of anything anymore. But what about Matt? 

…It was probably best not to bring it up. He didn’t want to accidentally offend him or something. That would ruin any potential friendship instantly. It was better to just redirect the conversation.

“So what got you into collecting novelty toys?” He asked, prodding the potted flower before looking around the apartment. “And…uh, mirrors?” There certainly was a huge amount of mirrors for one room. He wasn’t sure he liked looking at so many versions of himself. It certainly reminded him how bad he looked at the current moment.

“I don’t know,” Matt replied with a shrug, holding the monkey in one hand before climbing to his feet and placing it back on one of the many shelves lined with toys. “I can’t remember anything before I accidentally erased my memories."

“Really?” Tord asked, frowning slightly. Just like him. He could remember Edd saying something about that but he never would have guessed it was Matt. He didn’t really seem upset with it, did he? “You still don’t remember anything?”

“Nope!” Matt replied with a smile as he started to pull down more toys off the shelves to show off. Tord’s frown grew considerably. 

“And you’re fine with that?” He prompted after a short silence. 

“I’ve still got my friends. I’ve just got room to make all new memories!”

Falling into silence, Tord looked away, gently rubbing his right arm as he did so. He wanted to know more but, at the same time, he was worried. It was hard not to be when his past seemed to weigh so much on him. He had done something wrong and while his curiosity wanted to know what and wanted to know more, his shame was much greater. He didn’t want to know more about the mistakes he had made. 

“I’m sorry,” He finally said, still refusing to look at Matt. Apologizing was the best he could do, even if he couldn’t remember what he was apologizing for. Based on what he had heard he had blown up a house and tried to kill them. It probably wasn’t enough to just say sorry. He’d have to really make it up to all of them somehow. An apology would never be enough, not for what he had done. Even if he couldn't remember he had to make it up to all of them. Something more substantial than just two words.

“Okay, I forgive you.”

_Wait hold on._

Jerking his head up, Tord stared at Matt again, his gaze briefly focusing on the stuffed toys he was holding before focusing on his face. Disbelief spread across his own features as he squeezed his right arm a bit tighter, flinching slightly at the pain that raced up his shoulder and down to the tips of his fingers.

“What?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly. 

“I forgive you,” Matt repeated as he knelt down again and began arranging toys in front of him to show off. “Anyway, I don’t remember where I got these ones from but they’re some of my favorites and-“

“Why are you forgiving me? I thought I blew up your house! Didn’t I try to hurt you?”

“You punched me in the face and gave me a black eye. It was less than three weeks ago, I remember.”

“So why are you forgiving me?”

“We got you back already, though,” Matt pointed out, gesturing to Tord’s face. Lifting a hand immediately to cover the still red gashes, Tord frowned and looked away again. “Edd and I punched you with a bunch of mini robot arms and then Toby shot you with a harpoon. I think that makes us just about even.”

So that was the deal with the harpoons. But it didn't change the fact it felt so nice to hear those words. It didn't make everything fine but being forgiven. Forgiveness. Even Edd hadn't said those words to him, even with how helpful he was being. Just hearing them was...it was...Sniffing slightly, he wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He was being such a baby right now but he really couldn’t help it. He was just so relieved.

“Are you crying? Did you hurt your face when you fell off the couch earlier or something?”

Matt really sounded concerned. Smiling, Tord shook his head and held out a hand to show he was alright. 

“No, I’m fine,” He replied with a grin.

“I’m just really happy."


	13. All Hail Matt, Lord of the Fluff

It didn’t take long before they were watching a movie again.

Matt’s apartment wasn’t built to accommodate people like Edd’s was. The main room lacked any real furniture, instead featuring pictures of Matt and mirrors to reflect his own face. Thankfully, they hadn’t spent too long in that room. Every time he looked in a mirror it was just a slap in the face. He didn’t want to look at his horrible scars any more than he had to. 

But they hadn’t spent too long in that room since Matt’s novelty toy collection was actually set up in his bedroom. The same room where his TV was. Which meant it was only natural that after Matt finished showing off his toy collection they ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, eating popcorn and talking while a movie played in the background. 

Specifically speaking, the Tinkerbell movie. Apparently there was a franchise centered around a fairy and her friends living on an island and the magical adventures they went on. Which in itself was a spinoff of some other movie called Peter Pan. Which was based on a book and had not just one, but several movie adaptions.

The entire thing went way over his head. 

But the animation wasn’t half bad and the movie was much better than that horror movie they had tried watching earlier. It was cute and served as great background noise to focus in on every so often to see what wacky and zany adventures the fairies were experiencing now. Something about changing the seasons and getting spring to come to the mainland. He wasn’t really paying attention.

“So anyway,” Matt said, sitting back down on the bed. He had a towel in one hand and took care in spreading it out over the sheets in between them before placing a few small bottles of various colors on the bed beside him. “I think one of the best things you can do is get a journal of some kind. I mean there’s always that worry you’ll forget more.” 

“I was actually thinking about getting a journal,” Tord admitted, watching as Matt unscrewed one of the small bottles and began to paint his toes. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he frowned before leaning over, picking up one of the bottles of color. A bright red, almost the color of his hoodie. All of the bottles were bright colors of various shades, creating a rainbow of options. “I was going to ask Edd if he could buy me one. Just to help organize everything, yeah?”

“It’s relaxing,” Matt agreed with a nod as he picked up another color of nail polish. Apparently he was going for a rainbow pattern, then. That was cool. “Having a fixed schedule really helps. It gives you something to fall back onto so you don’t just lay around by yourself. And you can always find things to entertain yourself.” There was a pause where Matt finished painting the toes of his left foot before he screwed on the lid on the nail polish he had been using before holding his hand out to Tord. 

“Do you want me to paint your nails too? I mean, I can’t have all the fun.”

Staring down at the red nail polish he had been holding, Tord shrugged slightly and handed the nail polish over to Matt with a nod. Beaming back at him, Matt briefly shook the bottle of nail polish to shake it up before unscrewing it and leaning forward, using careful strokes of the brush to paint red across Tord’s toenails. 

“I think this is a lot more fun than that other movie,” Tord said after a moment, tilting his head as he watched Matt expertly paint his nails. He was… really good at that. How many times did he have to paint his own nails and fail to get that level of talent? It certainly wasn’t something Tord could ever see himself being able to do. In fact, after only a few minutes, he screwed the lid to the nail polish shut and nodded. 

“Oh, absolutely!” Matt agreed with a smile. “Now, be careful with those until they dry. Just don’t put any shoes on and you should be fine.” He started to work on his own nails again, leaving Tord to turn and actually start watching the Tinkerbell movie again, just in time to catch the ending. The main character had apparently messed up something but through hard work and creativity had managed to still make the seasons change on time. Everyone forgave her and everything turned out fine in the end. It was a shame things didn’t actually work like that. Sure Edd and Matt were great and forgiving and so kind, more than he ever expected. But that still left the other one. The man whose name he couldn’t even remember, but he could still remember their face when they dragged him off the couch and slammed his body into the floor. 

They had been so angry. 

What could he possibly do to try to make it up to someone like that? 

He was scared to even get close to him now. What if he reacted just as violently as before? Edd said he had talked to him but what if Edd wasn’t around?

Edd couldn’t always be around to help him.

“Oh, Tord,” Matt suddenly said and Tord looked up, snapped out of his thoughts. The credits for the movie had long since ended and Matt had not only finished painting his nails, but had gotten off the bed and was holding something in his hands. He hadn’t noticed he had moved between his thoughts. Maybe he needed to stop daydreaming so often.

“I want you to have this.” 

Glancing down, Tord stared at the stuffed bear Matt was holding in his hands. It had dark fur and a small, red bow around its neck, along with black, beady eyes that really helped complete the adorable look. Staring back up at Matt’s face again, Tord frowned slightly.

“Why?” He asked with a cough, not reaching out to take the bear from Matt. It wasn’t like he was afraid to take it or anything like that, he just didn’t know what he had done to warrant a gift.

“Well, you don’t have anything except that sweatshirt Edd gave you. So I figured I’d give you something too. Maybe you can start your own novelty toy collection some day!” Beaming, Matt thrust the bear into Tord’s arms before holding out another object. A second gift? Holding the bear close to his chest with one hand, Tord accepted the small piece of paper from Matt and squinted at it.

It was a picture.

A picture of Matt.

“For that journal you want to get,” Matt said with a smile. “That way you’ll always remember me.”

Tord placed the bear and the picture gently down on the bed before standing up and suddenly wrapping his arms around Matt’s chest. There wasn’t even a second of delay before Matt was hugging him back, patting him on the back as he did so.

“Thank you,” Tord whispered when he finally released the hug and took a small step back, picking up the bear and the picture and holding them close. “I’ll treasure them both, I promise.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Matt said with a smile. “Let’s get you back to Edd’s apartment. Maybe we can all eat lunch together and watch another movie. I’ve got a bunch of Disney movies that are probably much more fun to watch than some dumb horror movie. What do you say?”

“It sounds like fun,” Tord replied as they walked back into Edd’s apartment, both of them barefoot with their newly painted nails still drying. For a while, he hadn’t known anyone. By sheer luck Edd had found him and rescued him. Now, he had two friends he could laugh and talk with. Two people that cared about him. Two people he cared about.

Two had never felt like such a large number before.

 

\--- ---

He woke up that night cold and shaking.

His entire body felt like it was freezing, as if someone had left him to sit in a pool filled with ice cubes. But he was laying on the couch, covered in blankets. He shouldn’t be this cold. It didn’t make sense.

Coughing loudly, he started to blink the sleep away from his eyes when the pain suddenly set in. Sitting upright, he grasped at his shoulder, gasping for air. His body felt cold but his arm felt hot, like it was burning up. He had known the pain had gotten worse but this was completely unbearable now. 

It hurt.

It was hot.

It itched.

His nails clawed at the bandages but he managed to restrain himself from clawing them off entirely, not wanting another repeat of what had happened before. Coughing again, he slowly pushed the blankets off of him, letting them fall to the floor as he stumbled down the hallway towards Edd’s room. When was the last time he had taken medication? Maybe he just needed some painkillers and that would help calm down his arm. Digging his nails into his shoulder now to try to stop himself from scratching at the bandages, Tord pushed his way into Edd’s room and gently shook the sleeping man awake.

“Wha….? Tord? What are you doing awake?” Edd yawned as he slowly sat upright, squinting at Tord through the darkness. Next to him, his cat lifted its head also but didn’t seem nearly as interested and almost immediately laid back down to rest again.

“My arm hurts,” Tord whispered hoarsely, trying to fight the urge to cough again. “It feels hot. Can I take more painkillers?”

“No, you’re not due for a dose for another few hours,” Edd replied with a yawn before slowly lifting a hand to feel Tord’s forehead. Immediately, he frowned and pulled his hand away, climbing out of bed as fast as he could. He was frowning and when he spoke again, he sounded more than a bit nervous. “You’re too hot. I’m going to go get Matt, okay? Just wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” With that he hurried out of the room, leaving Tord alone. 

Well, not really alone. The cat was still there. 

Fatigue gripped him quickly and refused to leave. Coughing into his hand, Tord laid down in Edd’s bed, curling into a ball and closing his eyes. He just needed a few more minutes of rest. Edd wouldn’t take long before he got Matt and they all figured out what was wrong with him this time. He just needed a bit more sleep. 

He was already out by the time Edd returned with Matt and Tom in tow.

Just a little more sleep was all.

He barely heard Edd as he called out his name.

He’d be fine after some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh guys [Juh-Britto](http://juh-britto.tumblr.com/) made this super cool fanart I'm honestly so happy right now I'm dying. I MEAN LOOK AT IT IT'S SO GOOD


	14. Rip Off the Bandaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took a long time to write. I hope you all enjoy it!

He could hear voices now. His forehead wrinkled slightly as he was roused from sleep by several voices talking to one another, their discomfort reflected in their shaky voices. But he was just so tired. Too tired to actually open his eyes or ask them to keep it down so he could actually sleep. So instead he just shifted slightly, pulling the blanket up higher to try to fight back against the chill rattling his entire body.

“He’s got a really bad fever.”

“Since when? He was fine when he was with me this morning.”

“Except the fainting part.”

“Yeah, except the fainting."

Something warm pressed against his forehead, giving a small bit of relief against the cold his body felt. Cracking an eye open, he followed the hand pressed against his forehead to a green sweatshirt overing protectively near the bed. Lifting his head slightly, he could see two more people had joined Edd in the bedroom, although Tom was hanging back closer to the door. But even the small motion was enough to make his head swim and he closed his eyes again as the nervous chatter continued around him.

“He’s too hot. We need to cool him down somehow.”

“We could put him in a cold bath."

“But what if he gets hypothermia because he’s sitting in cold water?”

“Okay we can put him in a lukewarm bath. The exact temperature of the bath water doesn’t really matter.”

Something was pulling at the blanket now and he grimaced, his hands curling tighter around the fabric and pulling it close to his chest. His forehead wrinkled further as he tried to keep the blanket close to him, not wanting to give up his only source of warmth.

“No,” He whined as the tugging resumed with only a short pause. What were they trying to get him to do? He was cold and tired. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” a familiar voice whispered and the tugging stopped, replaced by a slight weight on his back. _Edd_. “We just need to get you into the bathroom, okay? You can bring the blanket if you want, I don’t mind.”

Instead of tugging at the blanket, a pair of hands pulled at his left arm, helping him upwards into a sitting position. Cracking open his eyes again, Tord lifted his head, focusing on the shape of Edd standing in front of him. Still gripping the blanket tightly around his shoulders with his right hand, he blinked a few times before lowering his head back down into his left hand, cradling his head as the dizziness took hold again. He felt like he could throw up. He was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep again. 

“Can you stand?” A different voice asked and Tord spared a glance up, tracing the noise back to Matt. Stand? Maybe. Taking the question as instructions, he shifted his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed before standing up in one quick movement, bringing the blanket up with him.

That was a mistake.

From the outside in his vision was quickly devoured by black until he couldn’t see anything, much like how his vision had faded away when Tom had pinned him against the ground. Staggering slightly to try to keep his balance, he managed to stay standing for a record three seconds before his knees suddenly gave out and he slipped forward. He would have crashed into the ground. He should have crashed into the ground. But before he could fall far two sets of hands were there to support him. His head tipped forward as Edd and Matt each took to a side, looping their arms under his so that they were supporting him 

“No,” Tord replied, letting his head lean against Edd’s shoulder and his eyes close again. “Can’t stand.” Thankfully, between the two of them, it looked like he didn’t actually have to stand by himself. “Sorry…"

“It’s okay,” Matt quickly reassured, patting his back reassuringly with a hand. “We’ve got you.” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Edd added and he felt the room lurch as they began to move together, taking slow, careful steps out of the room and down the hall. When they did stop again Tord opened his eyes, lifting his head once more as Matt and Edd slowly set him down on the ground, his back against a wall. They were in the bathroom. The bright, white tiles were cold and clammy under his touch and he wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, huddling against the wall near the toilet. Honestly, he was too tired at this point to care where he was sitting. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

The sound of running water filled the room as Edd began to fill the bathtub with water, leaving Matt to watch over Tord. Lifting his chin, he looked up towards the door as Tom came to stand in the doorway, observing the scene silently. He hadn’t really said anything, had he? Still, even just seeing him there made Tord incredibly uncomfortable. What if Tom suddenly attacked him again? He wouldn’t be able to fight back at all like this. Clearly Tom did not like him at all and he wouldn’t put it past him to try to get a cheap shot in while he was sick. But instead he was just standing there. Quietly. Judging with those weird black eyes of his. 

He hated it. 

“Here, I’ll help you take this stuff off,” Matt said, reaching out to take Tord’s arm and help ease his sweatshirt off. His hand only just barely wrapped around Tord’s wrist before pain flared up in his arm, racing up through his elbow and into his chest. It _burned_.

Tord recoiled from the touch immediately, quickly jerking his arm away from Matt. His eyes widened in shock as he quickly cradled his own arm, covering it with his uninjured arm to hide it from sight and stop anyone else from touching it. The room fell into a thick silence, only the sound of the water flowing into the bathtub and Tord’s uneven, heavy breathing breaching the quiet. 

It hurt.

It _HURT_. 

It didn’t hurt this bad before. Oh sure, it was painful when he pressed against it or hit it against something or fell down on it wrong. But this had been a gentle touch. Barely a squeeze. But it was still enough for it to feel like his arm was on fire. What was wrong with his arm? What was wrong with him? Why did it hurt so much now?

“Edd.”

Looking up, Tord felt his shoulders rise up when he realized the one who had spoken had been Tom.

“Did you ever replace those bandages on his arm that you were telling us about?”

Bringing his knees up quickly to shield his arm, Tord frowned, looking between Edd and Tom as Edd reluctantly shook his head. 

“No. He got too scared before when we tried to take them off. I didn’t want to push him too far when he just got here.”

“He’s probably got an infection. We need to get those bandages off of him now.”

“NO!” 

He hadn’t even realized he had yelled until all eyes in the bathroom were on him again. Quickly sliding across the floor, he wedged himself in the small place between the wall and the toilet, not really caring how dirty that space could be at the moment but instead just trying to get some distance between himself and the others. He had tried taking the bandages off with Edd. He had tried taking them off himself. He couldn’t take them off. He just couldn’t stand it. He wasn’t going to be able to make it through that experience. He didn’t want to. 

“I can’t do it,” he whispered, wedging himself back further into the corner. It was a marvel he had even managed to fit in the small, cramped space, but people managed to do impressive things when they were terrified. “Don’t touch it. Don’t touch me. I can’t.” 

“Tord,” Edd started, slowly turning off the water filling the tub and standing up, walking closer to the toilet where Tord had wedged himself into a corner. As he got closer Tord’s feet began to slide across the ground, trying to push him back farther into his hiding place. He could hear his heart in pounding in his ears again, threatening to drone out the voices of his friends. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re just trying to help you.” 

“I can’t do it. I can’t. Don’t touch me.”

“It’s alright, buddy. We’ll be with you the entire way.” It was Matt talking now. Swallowing hard, Tord tried to stop the shaking that had overtaken his body. He felt sick. Was he going to be sick now? His stomach was not ready for this kind of stress. “We just really need to get those bandages changed. It might help with your fever too.”

“No. Please don’t I can’t do it.”

“It’s okay Tord. Why don’t you just come out from there and we can all do this together?” Edd again. His chest tightened and he numbly shook his head. He didn’t want to repeat what happened. He didn’t want to look at what was hidden under those bloodied bandages. He couldn’t. Even just the slightest glance under the bandages had nearly had him collapsing. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to take them off. Couldn’t he just leave them on? It would be better off that way. What was the harm in it anyway?

“This is taking too long.”

He didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late. Tom had migrated away from the door and suddenly pushed past Matt and Edd, breaching the circle of space they had opted to give him to instead grasp the front of Tord’s hoodie. With much more strength than he could possibly even think of resisting, Tom suddenly yanked him out of his hiding place, pulling him back out into the open. Gasping for air, Tord tried to breathe as Tom dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and planted a foot on his chest. Although there was no real force behind the action, it was enough to stop him from sitting back upright or trying to get away. Wheezing now, Tord struggled for a moment, his left hand doing its damnedest to try and force the shoe off of him. But his resistance didn’t last long before his head was left spinning again and he gave up, letting his body fall back down onto the floor, absolutely exhausted. As he struggled to slow down his rapid breathing so he could actually get some air, Tom pulled a flask out from his hoodie and unscrewed the top before taking a sip of whatever clearly alcoholic drink he had poured in there earlier. Turning his head to look at Edd and Matt, he jerked a finger towards Tord with a frown. 

“Don’t just sit there, come over here and comfort him or something. If he’s shaking like this we aren’t going to get these bandages off.” 

Whatever shock Edd and Matt had experienced when Tom took the initiative vanished as they quickly scrambled over to where Tord was laying on the ground. As soon as they were close enough Tom pulled his foot away from Tord’s chest and stepped around him, grabbing the pair of scissors off the counter that had been left lying there previously. He started to rummage around in the cabinets, leaving Edd and Matt to pull Tord into a sitting position.

“I can’t do this,” Tord whispered hoarsely as Edd took hold of his left hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Please, don’t make me do this.” Slowly reaching out, Matt grasped the back of Tord’s head and pulled it in close to his shoulder, shushing the frightened man as he did so. 

“It’s okay,” Matt said gently, his voice calm and level as he patted Tord’s back. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Edd insisted, humming a short tune to try to soothe him. 

Having found a first aid kit and enough bandages, Tom returned to Tord’s right side, sitting down on the ground next to him with a sigh before rolling up the red sleeve of his hoodie to reveal the bloodied bandages. Even with his vision blinded thanks to his head resting against Matt’s shoulder, his entire body tensed up and he began to shake again at the sound. Ignoring this, Tom snapped the scissors once to make sure they weren’t too stiff before he started to cut off the bandages.

Even though he was effectively blind, he could still feel everything. He could feel the cold metal rest against his skin, he could feel every snap of the scissors and every bandage that loosened and fell away from his arm. He curled his fingers around Edd’s hand and squeezed tight, at the same time burying his head deeper into Matt’s shoulder. He could feel his shoulders start to shake and his breath catch in his throat again as tears came to his eyes. But every time he whimpered Edd and Matt were there, reassuring him with shushes and whispered reassurances. Was it almost over? How much longer was it going to take? It already felt way too long. 

“You should have changed this a long time ago, dumbass,” Tom grumbled as he pushed the sleeve up a bit farther, trying to get access to the shoulder area so he could cut through those bandages as well. It took a bit of work but he finally managed to cut through the last bandage and pulled the stained cloth away from his arm, tossing it aside the dirty bandages. Picking up a small towel he had grabbed, he dunked it in the bath for a moment to get it wet before turning back to Tord’s arm. He gently dabbed at the arm, trying to clear away some of the dried blood, only for Tord to choke back a sob and try to pull away. Grasping his wrist before he could properly get away, Tom huffed slightly and continued to clean the arm, ignoring Tord as he began to tremble again. “Calm down, Commie,” Tom finally snapped when Tord tried to pull away again with a choked back sob. “The damn thing is infected. You’re just going to hurt yourself more if you keep moving.”

It seemed to work well enough as Tord stopped trying to pull away, instead taking to just quietly sniffling into Matt’s shoulder. Nodding slightly, Tom continued to clean off the arm. It took an eternity but finally he could actually see the injuries that had been mostly hidden by dried blood. Drying the arm off then tossing the dirty towel aside, he looked over the injury, a frown creeping onto his face.

The wounds ran all the way from his wrist to just beneath his shoulder. It was a wonder the arm was still attached at all, let alone that he was able to still move it. Honestly, it wasn’t a surprise at all it was infected. Someone had already taken a good bit of effort to try to fix up the arm. Larger wounds had been stitched or stapled together, trying to keep the skin together. None of it was actively bleeding anymore but a good number of the injuries really did not look good. Even with the blood gone, the arm was very red and swollen in several areas. They really should have taken him to the hospital. They still should take him to the hospital. Sighing, he grabbed the roll of bandages he had picked up and began to carefully wrap the arm up again, this time with clean, dry bandages. It didn’t take as long as cutting off the bandages or trying to clean off his arm, so it wasn’t very long until he cut the bandages off from the roll and stood up with a shake of his head. 

“Done. Now I’m going to go back to sleep.” With that, he stomped out of the bathroom, quickly leaving the apartment to return to his own.

The other three were left in silence. While he was still shaking, Tord otherwise didn’t move, but instead continued to softly cry into Matt’s shoulder. Was it really over? His arm still hurt so much. His head hurt so much. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat, his ears. He couldn’t breathe properly between his tears and his failing attempts to calm his breathing down. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

Nothing had changed. Everything had gotten worse. It would have been better if Tom hadn’t touched the arm in the first place. 

“It’s alright Tord,” Edd whispered, patting Tord on the back. “Why don’t we get you some ibuprofen and all get to sleep? Everything is going to be fine.” He started to stand up and walk to the cabinet to get some painkillers for Tord, only for Tord to quickly grab at his sweatshirt, holding onto it tightly.

“Don’t leave me alone,” He whispered hoarsely, looking up from Matt’s shoulder. His shoulders shook as he tugged on Edd’s sweatshirt, trying to pull him back over. “Don’t….don’t leave me. You promised. _You promised_.” 

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” Edd replied with a smile, sitting back down on the floor of the bathroom with Tord and Matt, gently coaxing the hand grasping his sweatshirt off so he could hold it in both hands instead. 

“Don’t worry,” Matt added, patting Tord on the back, "We’re both going to be here for when you need us. Promise.” 

“Just don’t leave me alone,” Tord repeated softly, leaning against the two of them as his eyes watered up again. “Don’t leave.”

Thankfully, they didn’t. They said on the floor with him as he began to cry, trying his best to wipe the tears away with the back of his hand. Some time passed before they both stood up and helped him to his feet before guiding him back to Edd’s bedroom, giving him some painkillers on the way out of the bathroom. Fatigue from the fever and the entire event that had transpired hit him as soon as he laid down and in only a few moments, he was out cold, curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed, clutching a pillow against his chest in a tight hug. Edd took one side of the bed while Matt took the other and, just like Tord, they were both out within a few minutes. 

They didn't leave him. The thought never even crossed their minds. 

After all, they had both promised.


	15. Nightmares Round II

He was laying on the floor again, a familiar face looming above him. It didn’t take any time at all for him to place those eyes. 

_Tom._

Angry, black eyes stared down at him as the man’s mouth twisted into a tight snarl. He was mad. He was always mad at him, wasn’t he? It wasn’t anything new at this point but that didn’t mean he was any less afraid. 

“What are you doing?” Tord asked, his own voice sounding slow and sluggish to his ears. What was wrong with him? Everything felt….heavy.

In an agonizingly slow movement, he lifted his arm off the ground and pressed it against the body above him, trying to force him off. The body above him didn’t budge in the slightest, but even seemed to get closer. There was a weight on his chest driving him into the floor and a hand holding him against the ground. 

_It’s just like before._

A hand suddenly grabbed his right arm and Tord cried out in pain as the entire limb burned. His hand moved away from Tord’s chest to instead try to dislodge the hand digging into his right arm. Tears blurred his vision as he struggled, trying to pry the hand away. 

Something splattered against his cheek. Looking away from his arm, Tord stared up at Tom, his face twisting into horror as a black liquid began to drip from those creepy, black eyes of his. More and more began to drip down until it was practically raining, each drop hitting his cheek and sliding off onto the ground.

“I hate you,” Tom whispered, the liquid pouring out of his mouth as he spoke. 

_He couldn’t breathe._

He was drowning now, choking in the black liquid seeping from Tom’s eyes. It covered the floor and rose up quickly, rising past his ears. He clamped his mouth shut but the inky black managed to find a way in anyway. It was in his nose, in his mouth, down his throat. He couldn’t get any air past the creeping liquid.

“You should just die,” Tom muttered, his fingers digging into his arm and leaving burns where they touched his skin. It hurt. His whole body hurt. 

_He couldn’t see._

The liquid wasn’t black anymore, but instead a bright, horrible red. The taste of iron filled his mouth. It was blood. It was his blood. His arm ached and burned and his stomach twisted in knots. His arm felt hot. His entire body felt hot. He was burning up. Shaking, he closed his eyes as the bubbling liquid covered his eyes and he was left in a sea of red. But even as the surroundings faded away, Tom was still there, looming over him. Holding him down. 

_He couldn’t move._

His vision was fading fast. He couldn’t get any air. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t plead. He couldn’t…. he couldn’t…..

“You deserve this,” Tom yelled as water rushed past his ears and his vision went completely black.

— — 

He woke up first.

Even though he had only spent a few days at Edd’s apartment, it was weird waking up before Edd. As for Matt, he didn’t really have an opportunity to learn his sleeping habits so maybe Matt was just more of a night owl than Edd was. Of course, it was more likely they both were just tired after the events of the previous night. He was exhausted himself but it was just hard to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he just saw that nightmare again. He couldn’t get it out of his head. And now, a new nightmare joined it. 

_Black, void-like eyes._

_Searing pain._

_Choking on blood._

Slowly and carefully maneuvering himself out of a hug Matt had wrapped him in during some point in the night, Tord propped himself upright, trying to do his best not to disturb the two lying on either side of him. Lifting up his right arm, he frowned, before shaking his head and looking away, deciding not to roll up the sleeve to inspect the new bandages. He didn’t need to look. Instead, he slowly climbed out of the bed, mindful of Edd and Matt, and made his way into the bathroom. 

Turning on the sink, he cupped his hands under the water and drank a few mouthfuls before taking four advil. The bathroom was still dirty after the night before with bloodied bandages and a dirty towel laying on the floor, but he kept his head turned away and tried to ignore them. Splashing a bit of water onto his face to try to wake himself up, he paused for a moment to look at himself in the mirror.

There were bags under his eyes. He knew he wasn’t sleeping enough but it wasn’t something he could control. He looked flushed and white, probably from the nightmare but maybe from the sickness. His fever felt like it had gone down a little but maybe that was just the advil. He didn’t know if he was actually getting better or just masking his symptoms enough. Well, it didn’t matter either way. He wasn’t going to a hospital. He couldn’t go to a hospital.

Well, at least one person would be happy if he died.

Rubbing his eyes, Tord yawned as he turned off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom, wiping his face off with the back of his sleeve. Making his way quietly passed the bedroom, he paused to look inside at Matt and Edd. They were still sleeping peacefully, unaware that he had left in the first place. It would be better not to disturb them. They needed the rest.

Why did they like him? Why were they so willing to forgive him? They gave him a sweatshirt and a bear and a picture and dismissed any attempt to apologize for what he had done. It was so different than Tom. Why did he hate him so much? What was different here? Wandering down the hall into the main living area, he sat down on the couch, pulling his knees in close to his chest and picking up the bear he had been sleeping with before being suddenly awoken by his fever. The bear Matt had gifted to him. He had been confused by Matt’s toy collection at first but he had already grown fond of the bear. Hugging it close to his chest, he laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling silently. He could already tell he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. He’d just have to wait for Edd or Matt to wake up.

The door suddenly opened and Tord nearly fell in his attempt to quickly vacate the couch. He was on his feet in an instant, holding the bear closer to his chest as he stared at the door. Tom blinked at him for a moment before huffing slightly, clearly agitated. He was always agitated. That word, along with any other word meaning angry, seemed to be his only personality.

At least he wasn’t pinning him to the floor this time.

“You’re awake. Great.” Stepping inside, Tom let the door close behind him and walked around the couch, giving Tord a wide space as he made his way into the kitchen. He set a plastic bag he had been carrying onto the table and began to unpack whatever he had brought with him as Tord watched, his eyes wide. What was he doing here? It was probably best to just not get in his way. Keeping his mouth shut tight, Tord watched as Tom finished placing a small pile of items on the table before balling up the plastic bag and tossing it in the trashcan. Seemingly ignoring him now, he walked back to the door, leaving promptly and without a word. 

Wait.

Wait maybe this was a chance to ask. He wanted to know why his grudge ran so much deeper. He wanted to know why he hated him so much. This was probably the best chance he had to ask him.

Summoning up all his courage, Tord quickly placed the bear back down on the couch before he followed Tom into the hallway, managing to catch up him before he disappeared into whichever door led to his apartment.

“Wait!” Tord called, reaching out and grasping the back of Tom’s hoodie. 

Everything seemed to slow down at once. 

Tom’s head turned slowly to look over his shoulder and, when just the corner of his black eyes were visible, they suddenly widened. The rest of his body began to move and a hand suddenly caught his wrist, wrenching it away from Tom’s hoodie and jerking it up in the air, high above Tord’s head. His other hand curled into a fist and pulled back, winding up for a punch. Flinching away, Tord turned his cheek towards the taller man, expecting a fist to connect with some part of his body, likely the face. His breath caught in his throat as he braced himself, his entire body tensed for the hit.

It never came. 

Breathing heavily, Tom slowly released Tord’s wrist, his entire arm shaking like even just letting go had been a very difficult task. It took him a few seconds before he was able to scowl down at Tord, both of his arms shaking with every breath.

“Don’t you ever sneak up on me.”

“But I didn’t-” Tord started to protest, only to quickly step backwards when Tom pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t. Do. That.”

Keeping his distance now, Tord watched as Tom sighed, taking a deep breath and running his hand through his hair. Turning back towards the door he had been walking to, he took his keys out of his pocket and started to unlock the door. Scared, but not deterred yet, Tord summoned up his courage again, trying to fight back against the part of his mind that insisted this was a very bad idea. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tom stopped short, his keys inside the lock. For a moment he was quiet, then he sighed and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I mean, I still don’t know exactly what I did wrong but I know I hurt you.”

“Stop.”

“I want to know what I have to do to make it up to you. How can I convince you I’m sorry?”

“You can’t. Just stop.”

“But I want to be friends again,” Tord protested. There had to be something he could do to make this better.

Hands suddenly grabbed the front of his hoodie and wind whistled past his ears for a moment before his back connected hard with a wall. Held a few inches off the ground, Tord’s eyes widened in shock and he grasped at the hands holding him against the side of the hallway. No no no, not again. Every time he spoke to Tom he always ended up hurt. Wiggling around in a desperate attempt to try to free himself, Tord closed his eyes, anticipating the punch that had never been completed earlier would make a reappearance. 

“Just listen to me!” He yelled desperately, kicking his feet out to try and get Tom away from him. "I’m trying to fix this!"

“No you ass, listen to me,” Tom hissed. “You can’t just walk into my life less than three weeks after you tried to kill me and try to be nice. You can’t pretend that we were friends at some point. I don’t care if you lost your memories or whatever dumb excuse you’re using to get pity from Edd and Matt so they forgive you. I’m not your friend. I never was your friend. You can’t fix something that never existed in the first place. So stop trying.” 

The hands let go again and Tord dropped to the floor, landing hard on his rear. Pressing himself up against the wall, he stared up at Tom in fear as the taller man scowled down at him briefly before turning back to his apartment door and unlocking it. Ignoring Tord entirely, he stepped into his apartment and closed the door, locking it from the inside with a loud click that echoed down the hallway. 

He was alone in the hallway now. 

Stumbling, Tord struggled to find his feet, his entire body shaking. He hadn’t been hit but his entire body felt numb. He couldn’t seem to organize his thoughts into any coherent sentence. Dragging himself down the hallway, he managed to find his way back into Edd’s apartment. Picking his bear up off the couch, he stumbled down the short hallway before making his way inside the bedroom. Staring at Edd and Matt for a moment, he hesitated for a moment, giving the bear a small squeeze.

No.

Laying down on the floor at the foot of the bed, curling into a ball and clutching the bear close to his chest. 

— — 

It was a few hours before the next person woke up. Edd slipped off the bed with a yawn, stretching out his arms before walking towards the door. He only just made it past the bed, however, when he suddenly stopped and turned, staring at the floor at the foot of the bed and the person laying on the floor there. Tord’s eyes were open but he didn’t seem to be focused on anything, instead just staring at the wall opposite from the bed. What was wrong with him? Was he still upset about the incident in the bathroom last night? Why was he laying on the floor instead of on the bed?

“Tord?” Edd asked, walking close to where he was curled up and sitting down in front of him. He was breathing, at least. That was a good sign. “Tord, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tord replied softly, closing his eyes and pulling his knees in closer, looking very much like everything was wrong in the world. 

“Why are you laying on the floor, then?” Edd asked patiently, reaching out and placing a hand on Tord’s forehead. He still felt hot but not too bad compared to last night. “You can talk to me. We’re friends.”

“Do you pity me?” 

“What?” Edd asked, a frown forming on his face as Tord looked up at him. “Of course I feel bad for you. You’ve had so many bad things happen to you. Anyone would feel bad for you.”

“Is that why you forgave me?” Tord asked softly, looking like he would very much like to crawl right under the bed and hide there. He probably could fit if he put his mind to it.

“What are you talking about?” Edd asked before sighing. He didn’t even need to ask, did he? “Okay, I’ll go talk to Tom and get this all settled,” Edd declared, patting Tord on the cheek gently. “Just don’t go anywhere and I’ll be right back.” Standing upright, Edd left Tord on the floor, practically storming his way down the hallway to Tom's apartment. This was going to be a tough conversation but one that they needed to have, it seemed. They were going to end up exactly in the same place as before if Tom kept behaving like this. It was time to call him out on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sun burned at the beach and now I'm tired. 
> 
> Also point of view shift at the end of this and the start of the next chapter to Edd. I decided to change it early since we've got a talking scene coming up that Tord won't be present at and wanted to put the POV on Edd. I think it'll end up more smooth this way.


	16. It's Time To Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this one guys, if you didn't see my tumblr post I had a bunch of hospital appointments that tied me up.

The trip down to Tom’s apartment felt longer than it was. The hallway seemed to stretch out before him and the room where Tom lived near the end seemed miles away. Why did it have to be like this? Couldn’t Tom see they were all trying to make an effort here? The only one who seemed stuck in a twisted mindframe was Tom himself. He had to get over this at some point or at least make an effort to get past it. Everyone else seemed to be. He, Matt and Tord were all trying to get things right again. Why couldn’t Tom put in the same amount of effort? It was just so frustrating.

Reaching the door to Tom’s apartment, Edd sighed and knocked on the door. A muffled crash came from behind the door, followed by a loud curse and a thud. A moment later the door jerked open, revealing a familiar face. Tom’s frown lifted, just barely, as he looked down at Edd, rubbing his elbow with a hand.

“We need to talk,” Edd replied and Tom sighed but complied, stepping to the side and opening the door further to allow Edd to enter the apartment. Stepping past him, Edd shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked deeper into Tom’s new home, looking around the place. While it certainly could accommodate more people than Matt’s apartment thanks to a rather functional layout, Edd’s own home tended to be more of the middle ground for meeting up. They watched more movies there and just met up there more often. It had been a couple of days since he had been in Tom’s apartment last, before Tord had reentered their lives. In just a few days a lot had changed.

While never the neatest of the bunch, the mess in Tom’s apartment was starting to look closer to Matt’s levels. Papers were scattered across the floor and the table and everything else. Stepping over a few sheets, he made his way to the table and picked up one of the sheets. It was a wanted poster for Tord. Frowning, Edd turned back to look at Tom as the owner of the apartment closed the door and walked back over to him, rubbing his elbow with a scowl.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Tom asked, sitting on a chair that had been surprisingly not covered with papers. “If this is about Tord I didn’t do anything to him earlier I just told him to leave me alone. I didn’t punch him or anything.”

“Tom,” Edd replied softly, picking up another sheet of paper that seemed to be about when the apartment building they lived in had been made. Glancing over it briefly, he sighed before gesturing to the papers scattered around them. “What is all of this?”

“I was just looking at possible leads for what Tord might be looking for coming back here. I haven’t narrowed anything down yet but considering he managed to sneak an entire secret lab and a giant robot into our old house, I wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to hide a secret submarine or plane under this place.”

“Tom,” Edd replied softly, placing a hand down on the table near Tom’s hand. “There isn’t a secret lab in our new apartment building. Tord lost his memories. Even if he hadn’t, he couldn’t have predicted that we would move into this apartment building in the first place. You don’t need to do all of this.”

“Maybe he just build a secret base under every apartment building. He’s got an entire army backing him at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to build a couple dozen secret labs around the city.” 

“But why?” Edd asked. This was all overkill, wasn’t it? Tom was starting to sound like a paranoid conspiracy theorist. “If he was doing that, why would he go out of his way to do that and fake amnesia and come back?”

“I don’t know!” Tom declared, standing up abruptly and pacing back into the center of the room, biting his fingernail as he did so. “I’m trying to figure it out. I can’t find any reason for him to do any of this and driving me absolutely crazy. Why would he come back after what he did? What could be so important that he would show his face around here again?”

“Tom,” Edd said, crossing the room towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Tom flinched, glancing over his shoulder but stopping when he realize who was there. Taking a deep breath, Tom curled his hands into tight fists, closing his eyes to try to calm himself down. “Why can’t you just try to see the idea that he might have actually lost his memories? Can’t you just give him a chance? We could go back to the way things used to be.”

“What, back when we were friends?” Tom snapped, taking a sharp step away from Edd and knocking his hand away from his shoulder. “I was never friends with that asshole! I don’t know how you always seem to miss this but we hate each other. We always have, right from the start.” His voice was starting to get louder now, creeping up into the vicinity of a yell. Pulling his hand back, Edd frowned slightly but pressed on regardless, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling nestled in his gut. They had to talk about this. 

“But this is a chance to actually be his friend,” Edd replied, trying to keep his voice gentle. “He can’t remember anything from the past. Why are you holding it against him?”

“Well gee Edd, maybe because I don’t actually think he’s lost his memories?” Tom replied, throwing his hands in the air like this was the clear and logical conclusion. “Don’t you realize how convenient of an excuse that is? He just flashed you some puppy dog eyes and now he can do whatever the hell he wants. And you and Matt are falling for it! WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SEE THIS?!” He slammed his hand down on the table with this yell, looking absolutely livid.

Edd took a sharp step backwards, nearly slipping on a few papers in his struggle to make some distance between them. His back hit the wall behind him as he stared at Tom, his heart racing in his chest. It was hard to breathe. Closing his eyes, he curled his hands into fists, trying to force himself to slow down his rapid breathing.

He could handle this.

He’d been through this before.

It was just Tom he was fine. Tom wasn’t going to hurt him.

“Edd? Edd? Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” The anger seemed to drain from him all at once, leaving Tom to flounder for a second before grabbing a blanket off the couch and wrapping it around Edd’s shoulders. The weight grounded him slightly but it was hard to focus. His heart was too loud. Everything was too loud. He needed to get out. He had to get out. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.” Slowly reaching out, he placed a hand on Edd’s shoulder and guided him to sit down on a chair nearby, trying to keep his voice quiet and soft now. It wasn’t easy. “Just breathe, okay? You’re alright. You’re safe.”

It took a while. Somewhere close to twenty minutes, based on the clock on Tom’s stove. But when it was finally over, he felt exhausted. He needed a nap and he had only just woken up.

“I’m sorry Edd,” Tom repeated, for possibly the hundredth time already, inching a bottle of cola closer to Edd. Blinking a few times, Edd grasped the can, bringing it close and taking a small sip. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay,” Edd replied with an exhausted smile. “It happens. You don’t need to apologize. I’m used to it.” 

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Tom insisted.

“How about we just talk about something else?” Edd replied, not wanting to dwell on the topic of his phobia any longer. He felt uncomfortable talking about it. He didn’t like addressing it at all, really. He knew Tom and Matt had their fair share of problems after what happened too but he did prescribe to the philosophy ‘out of sight out of mind’. Or in this situation, ignore it and avoid it as long as it isn’t actively affecting him. “Like you giving Tord a chance. Or at least not scaring him half to death whenever he sees you.”

The frown on Tom’s face quickly returned but after a moment he sighed and relented. “Alright, fine,” He grumbled. 

“Great! Let’s go talk to him.” Standing up quickly, Edd tossed the blanket off his shoulders, taking Tom by the hand and leading him to the door.

“What, right now?” Tom quickly asked, resisting the tugging on his arm and coming to a stop in the middle of the apartment. 

“Yes, right now,” Edd insisted as he pulled Tom closer to the door. “We’re all sitting down and having a civil conversation like I wanted to in the first place. Nobody is weaseling their way out of this one either.” Pulling the door open with a hand, he led Tom down the hallway and back to his own room, pulling open the door. At some point while he was gone Tord had migrated out of the bedroom to sit on the couch, watching a muted TV. But when the door swung open he quickly looked up. 

“Oh, Edd,” He said with a smile before he noticed Tom standing behind his friend. Bolting upright off the couch, he jumped to his feet quickly, almost falling over the couch as he scrambled backwards. “Edd?” He asked, looking between the two of them as he backed his way into a corner, his hands patting the wall behind him to make sure it was solid. “I thought you said you were going to talk to him, not bring him back here.” 

“We’re all going to sit down and talk,” Edd replied, pulling Tom deeper into the apartment and over to the table in the kitchen. Pulling out a chair, he patted Tom on the shoulder before letting go of his hand and walking back over to where Tord was standing, still pressed up against the wall. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you alone. We’re going to settle this so we can all be friends again, okay?” Grasping Tord’s hand in his own, he gently guided him to the table and sat him down across from Tom, taking a seat in between them with an optimistic smile.

“Okay, let’s start.”


	17. The Discourse™

“I hate you.”

“Tom!” Edd immediately said, his voice only slightly raised as he shot an exasperated look at his friend. Tom glanced back, giving an innocent shrug like he wasn’t sure what he had done wrong in the first place. “I said civil.” Tom rolled his eyes-Did he? It was hard to tell when Tord still wasn’t even sure if he had eyes in the first place. He sort of just looked like he would be rolling his eyes if he had them-and leaned back in the chair with a scowl.

“Alright, I have an extreme dislike for you.”  
“That’s really not much better,” Edd replied, a small frown forming on his own face, though it was nowhere as big as Tom’s.

“It’s okay,” Tord replied softly, trying to avoid making eye contact with Tom. Or just looking in the general direction of those two weird holes in his head. “I really don’t mind at all.” He didn’t want to be sitting here with them. Well, he wanted to be sitting here with Edd, he just didn’t want to be sitting anywhere close to Tom now. I had taken him a while but he had learned his lesson. Enough times getting smashed into the floor and held down against his will and he was set on just avoiding Tom as best he could. What if he said something wrong? What if he did the wrong thing and Tom just launched himself across the table like some kind of feral animal? Every time he saw him he looked angry so it was hard to see if there were warnings or signs he was suddenly going to attack. 

He just really didn’t want to be attacked again. He didn’t want a repeat of the bathroom or the first time he saw him or the hallway. Did they really need to be having a conversation now? Tom clearly had some personal grudge and it wasn’t going to be something just talking it over could fix.

“Well I mind,” Edd replied insistently, crossing his arms as he looked at Tom. “We talked about this. Can’t you give him a chance? Please?” Something in that pleading look quickly wore down at whatever defenses Tom had built and after only a few short seconds, he tossed his head back with a loud sigh. 

“Fine,” Tom groaned, his jaw clenched tightly as he rested his elbows on the table. “Whatever.”

“Great! Now I want you both to apologize.” That smile was back on Edd’s face but Tord really couldn’t share it. He could only feel his gut twisting up with every passing second. Apologize? For what? He had tried that already for mistakes he couldn’t even remember making and where did it get him? Smashed against an apartment wall and yelled at. He thought he was going to get punched and his head was still reeling from the collision. This wasn’t going to go any better. Why did they have to do this? Tom had already made it perfectly clear he wasn’t going to forgive him. Why did Edd think that prying some useless, false apology out of him was going to work?

“Why?” Tom asked immediately, looking shocked. “I haven’t done anything wrong!” 

Right, sure. 

Dragging him off a couch, slamming him into a floor, kneeing him in the gut until he almost blacked out and yelling a barrage of questions at him was clearly doing nothing wrong.

Yanking out from an enclosed space when he was in the middle of panicking, completely ignoring the fact he was not alright with anyone getting near him and holding him down against the floor in the bathroom was just being friendly.

Pushing him up against a wall, nearly punching him in the fact and yelling at him when all he tried to do was apologize was perfectly fine.

“Except assault me a few times,” Tord whispered softly, though apparently not quietly enough.

“Well gosh Tord, maybe if you hadn’t tried to KILL ME we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Tom replied sarcastically, his tone sharp enough to cause Tord to flinch away, his hands gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. His mouth snapped closed and he looked very pointedly in another direction, avoiding even looking in Tom’s general direction. His head hurt. Why were they doing this again? 

“Guys, come on.”

Oh right. Edd. He really wanted them to try to be friends, didn’t he? It seemed impossible. But Edd had done so much for him he could at least try.

“I’m sorry,” Tord said quietly, his gaze shifting to look down at his own lap. “I still don’t know what I did wrong exactly but I know I made a lot of mistakes and-“

“Mistakes? Is that what we’re calling blowing up our house, trying to kill me and succeeded in killing someone else? Don’t lie to me, I know you haven’t forgotten any of that.” But he didn’t… he couldn’t remember anything. He really didn’t know. He didn’t know and he didn’t want to know. 

“Tom, this isn’t helping,” Edd replied with a frown. “We’re supposed to be trying to fix everything.” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times he fakes an apology if he doesn’t mean it, Edd,” Tom retorted. “You want me to apologize? I want him to confess he hasn’t actually lost his memories. I want to know why you’ve have the audacity to come back here after everything you’ve done to us.” But he did lose his memories how was he supposed to confess to something that wasn’t true? His heart hurt he didn’t want to talk about this any more. Why did he have to do this? 

“I don’t remember anything,” Tord replied faintly, already starting to feel himself drift. Why didn’t he believe him? Why did he have to have some kind of sinister motive like a cartoon villain? 

“Oh, I’m sure you just happened to lose your memory just a few days after everything happened. Sure Tord, sure. And I’ve set up thousands of tiny, invisible needles in the kitchen to catch a time-stopping, TV remote stealer.”

“I…What?” 

“I’m not that gullible, Tord. So tell me what the hell you’re up to so we can just get this over with.”

“Tom, that’s enough,” Edd suddenly cut in, picking the right time to quickly climb to his feet, turning to look at Tom with a frown. In a second Tom was on his feet as well, somehow managing to keep his voice down low but still encompass all the anger of a yell. “We’re supposed to be trying to be friends again, not grilling an amnesiac for information he doesn’t have!” 

“But he hasn’t forgotten, Edd! Why can’t you see he’s just lying to you again? Like he always does?”

“Because I trust him. Like I’m asking you to try to do.”

“Oh no, no way. I’m not trusting that Commie as far as I can throw him."

They were talking about him like he wasn’t even here now. Burying his head in his hands, Tord tried to cut out the sounds of the two bickering over him. It didn’t work. It didn’t help at all. This entire setup was just giving him more and more of a headache and making him nauseous. It felt too hot. Did he really have to stick around for this? If he just left they could probably get a civil conversation in. He was just making it worse. He always seemed to cause problems, didn’t he?

Climbing to his feet as Edd and Tom continued to argue, he silently walked around the table, stepping behind Tom so he could head back to the bedroom. He wanted to lay down, nightmare be damned. It couldn’t be worse than what was going on right now. 

He had just started to walk around Tom when a hand suddenly grasped his wrist, and yanked it up, high above his head. Looking up with a start, Tord found himself staring, yet again, up at Tom’s angry eyes. 

_”Don’t you ever sneak up on me.”_

_“But I didn’t-“_

His breath caught in his throat as his right hand instinctively rose up, clawing at the hand holding his wrist with such a force it felt like it could break. No. Nononono! He needed to get away before he ended up pinned on the floor again. He already couldn’t breathe. He needed to get away. He felt like he was choking all over again on black and red. He knew Tom hated him. He knew it and he knew he deserved it but it didn’t make him any less scared. It didn’t stop his heart from trying to leap out of his chest. It didn’t stop him from choking and struggling to breathe even when all he had done was grab his wrist. 

“No, please,” Tord whispered, the pain in his arm bringing tears to his eyes as he tried to use his injured hand to dislodge Tom’s grip. It burned. Not again. Please not again. “ _Please stop!_ ”

A green blur suddenly passed in front of his vision and the pressure on his wrist vanished, leaving Tord to drop hard onto the floor. Not bothering to even figure out what had happened, he quickly scrambled across the floor, moving surprisingly quickly on all fours until he reached the bedroom. Quick, short breaths supplied little air to his lungs as he pressed himself flat against the ground and wiggled under the bed, trying to find some place to hide. Thankfully, he seemed just small enough to fit and, despite hitting his head on the underside of the bed a few times, it didn’t take long before he was completely underneath, hiding between the small space between the underside of the bed and the floor. Tom was too big, right? He wouldn’t be able to fit under the bed, right?

Right?

The voices faded away. He couldn’t tell if they had just stopped talking or if he was just too far away to hear them. But he could still hear his own heart, beating loudly in his ears. He could still hear his own breathing and the fast, sharp breaths struggling for air. Closing his eyes in the darkness under the bed, he curled his aching arm in close to his body, trying to calm himself down enough to breathe properly.

Just focus on breathing.

Calm down.  
   
Don’t think about what happened.

Don’t think about _the eyes and the black and the red and the blood and-_

Choking back a sob, Tord quickly lifted his other hand, clamping his teeth down on his own skin. 

He couldn’t stop shaking. 

He couldn’t stop the tears.  
   
— —  
   
“Tord?”  
   
His eyes snapped open in a panic, even though he knew that voice was Edd’s. Clamping his teeth down harder on his hand until it hurt, he stayed quiet, instead staring at the pair of shoes standing near the doorway. He knew it was Edd. Why was he still hiding? It was just Edd. “This apartment is so small how did we lose him?”

 

“Well, he’s not in the bathroom,” Tom replied and Tord’s jaw clenched around his hand, threatening to draw blood. “I’m really sorry Edd, I don’t know why I did that. It just happened before I realized what I was doing.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You need to apologize to Tord.”

“…Alright. I’ll try.”

There was a pause before the feet shuffled, walking deeper into the bedroom. Green shoes moved around the side of the bed and the closet door briefly opened. After a small pause, the shoes suddenly turned towards the bed and Tord felt his heart beat louder as Edd crouched down and his face quickly came into view.

“Tord?” Edd asked quietly, before his expression changed into something that looked more like relief and he held a hand out towards him, reaching under the bed. “Oh good, we found you. Come on out, let’s keep talking. Tom has something he wants to say to you.” Tord felt his throat dry up as he shook his head, inching away from the outstretched hand. His hand was starting to hurt now but he ignored it, instead continuing to bite down. Edd frowned slightly at this, but kept his arm outstretched towards him under the bed. “Come on, friend. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise.” Still, Tord shook his head and refused to budge, Edd remained there for a few more moments before drawing his arm back in and sitting upright, turning to address Tom. Tord couldn’t see most of him but he could make out his checkered shoes near the doorway. He was too big to get under the bed. Right, right. He was safe. “He’s under here but he’s not coming out.”

“What, under the bed? How the hell did he fit under there?” The second pair of footsteps moved, walking closer to where Edd was sitting and kneeling down. A different face was peering at him now, black eyes staring at him or at least in his general direction. Quickly inching farther away, towards the opposite side of the bed, Tord felt his heart beat even faster and louder, muffling the other sounds. 

“I’m sorry for attacking you,” Tom suddenly said, lifting his head back up so he wasn’t staring at him anymore. He was just sitting there near the edge of the bed. Was he talking to him? As far as he knew he was the only one Tom had attacked recently. “Again. I’m sorry for attacking you again. And I’m sorry for attacking you in the hallway earlier today and yelling at you. I haven’t been treating you fairly and it took Edd literally throwing his entire body at me and yelling at me for a solid ten minutes for me to realize that.”

“You don’t have to accept my apology if you don’t want to. But I was thinking we could at least try being friends…ly. We could try being friendly.”

Why should he trust him? Tom’s track record was bad. Really bad. It seemed like every time he saw him he was getting hurt, and this time was no exception. If he didn’t accept him, he’d probably be better off. Safer and less prone to hiding under beds and behind toilets. If he didn’t respond maybe he’d just leave. A few moments passed before Tom sighed and climbed to his feet, apparently giving up. He started to walk away before the silence in the bedroom was suddenly broken.

“I’m stuck,” Tord whispered, then repeated it a little louder. He had somehow managed to wedge himself under the bed on his side and couldn’t get back out again since his good arm was pinned underneath him. “Guys help, I’m stuck.”

Two faces were looking under the bed now and Edd reached out his arm, only to fall short. “Tom, you’re taller than me. Can you reach him?”

Tom reached under the bed and fumbled around for a moment before he managed to snag the end of Tord’s hoodie and pulled. The extra strength was enough to dislodge him and a few moments later Tord was crawling out from under the bed with Tom’s help, slightly out of breath and rubbing the back of his hand that he had been biting the entire time. Now that he had stopped trying to dig his teeth into his own skin, it was really starting to hurt. That had been a really bad idea.

Looking between Edd and Tom, Tord paused for a moment before suddenly smiling. “I can’t believe I got stuck,” He whispered, laughing at himself. 

“I can’t believe you fit under that bed,” Tom replied with a small smile himself, climbing to his feet. “Did you get even shorter or something?” 

“I’m just glad you two are finally getting along,” Edd replied with a grin as he stood, helping Tord up off the ground as well. “You know what this means?”

“It means group hug!” 

The three of them were suddenly pulled in close as Matt appeared, smashing the entire group into a huge hug with his cheerful announcement. When he had woken up was a complete mystery but clearly it hadn’t been too long ago. 

Tord floundered for a moment in the hug, unsure of what to do and generally uncomfortable with the entire set up. He had wanted forgiveness from them. It didn’t seem right that he deny what he had wanted from Tom. The apology had seemed heartfelt enough and he was willing to give him a chance. It was what Edd wanted. It was what he would have wanted. This was a chance to be friends with all of them, not just Edd and Matt. 

So he gave in and joined the group hug, smiling along with the rest of them. Maybe things were really starting to look up for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha yeah right his ass is getting trashed.
> 
> Also, chapter for Thursday is delayed. Sorry about this but I wasn't expecting this vaccine to mess me up so much. I'm not sure I can even get it out on Friday since I can't really type with just one arm. I'm going to try to get it up for Saturday but if that doesn't work, chapters will resume as normal on Sunday.
> 
> Sorry guys ;-;


	18. Lightning Never Strikes the Same Place Twice

The hug was still pretty uncomfortable. 

It was even more uncomfortable when somebody’s arm accidentally pressed against his own, pinching his arm against his chest. Which would have been fine and dandy if that arm hadn’t been his right. Pain flared up at the point of contact and shot up and down his arm like lightning, striking his fingertips and his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, Tord abruptly lifted his other hand forward and shoved outwards, pushing himself away from the hug and freeing himself from the embrace of his friends and Tom. Hissing in pain, he lifted his hand up to his right arm, wincing as he ghosted his fingers just over the fabric of the hoodie covering it so just barely any pressure was on it. Still, it was enough to spark up another shot of pain in his arm, though nowhere near as bad as the first.

“Tord?”

Looking up, Tord’s grimace of pain twisted into a forced smile as he looked at the concerned look on Edd’s face, mimicked by Matt. Tom had defaulted back to indifference but that seemed to be his neutral expression so it wasn’t that bad. Even if they were trying, their friendship wasn’t on the same level as Edd’s or Matt’s. He wasn’t that torn up about the lack of concern.

“Oh, don’t worry Edd,” Tord quickly replied, waving a hand with a smile. “My arm just got pinched, that’s all. It’s alright.” It was best if Edd didn’t worry about him. Besides, if they were worried about his arm again they might want to change the bandages all over again. That really wasn’t an experience he wanted to replicate any time soon. His arm would be fine if they just left it alone. Let it rest and leave it be. If they kept trying to touch it, they were just going to make it worse.

“Are you sure?” Edd asked, concern clear in his voice as he broke away from the remainder of the group hug, stepping closer to him as he did so. Lifting a hand up, he surprisingly avoided Tord’s arm entirely, instead pressing his wrist against Tord’s head. His frown deepened slightly as he moved his hand away. “You’re still pretty warm. How about we all just take it easy so you can get some more rest?”

“We could watch a movie,” Matt offered, letting his arms fall away from Tom and instead clapping his hands together. “We could all watch the second Tinkerbell movie! I just watched the first one with Tord yesterday so it would be perfect!”

“Ugh, really?” Tom let out a loud groan and made a gesture that looked like he was rolling his eyes. It was pretty convincing for a guy who didn’t have any. "I’m not five, guys. Can’t we watch something better?” 

“Like what?” Edd asked "It has to be something we can all watch. So until further notice, that means no zombies. Or horror movies in general.”

“Actually, I was going to suggest Beauty and the Beast,” Tom replied. “It’s still a cartoon, but at least its not Tinkerbell.”

“Beauty and the Beast could work,” Edd agreed with a thoughtful nod. “I mean, it’s not that scary, right? It’s still a kids movie.”

“Nah.”

“I don’t remember it being that scary.”

“What’s Beauty and the Beast?” Tord asked, looking at the group as they apparently agreed on what movie they would be watching. None of these movies had stuck with him and none of the names sounded familiar. “Is it good?”

“It’s a cartoon adaption of a fairytale,” Matt explained. “It’s made by the same people who made Tinkerbell. It was one of the earlier movies that they made. But it’s really good!” The vague explanation didn’t really answer his question very well. He didn’t want to know what it was so much as what it was about. The title didn’t really offer all that much of an explanation. Then again, neither did Tinkerbell. How was he supposed to know that was the main character’s name with no prior knowledge? And even then, it told him nothing about what the story was really about. 

“Okay,” Tord replied hesitantly, but nodded regardless. It was a children’s movie, right? How bad could it be if it was meant to cater to little ones? He coughed, trying to clear away the tickle rising in his throat. His chest was hurting more now. Was it from when Tom had slammed him into the wall? Maybe he had hurt something then. “We can try it, I guess.” 

“If you aren’t comfortable at any point we can always turn it off,” Edd added reassuringly, giving him a small pat on the back. “Say the word and we can stop watching any time.”

“Oh, I’ll go make popcorn!” Matt said with a smile before quickly scampering out of the room to go make the treat of choice for the movie. 

“Yeah, I’m going to go make my own,” Tom added, walking towards the door. "Matt always adds too much butter.” 

“There’s no such thing!” Matt called cheerfully, presumably from the kitchen.

“You don’t add enough salt either!”

“The butter is salted you don’t need to add _more_.”

“That doesn’t count and you know it.”

The voices droned on in the kitchen, leaving Tord and Edd alone in the bedroom. It was weird. Every time he had seen Tom he was dangerous. A clear and positive source of pain and discomfort. In all of his meetings with Tom, it just cemented this fact. So it was strange listening to him in the other room engaging in a conversation that could be described almost as….friendly. Even if it wasn’t a conversation with him, the fact he wasn’t pinned to the ground or to a wall and in some kind of pain was too strange. Everything had happened so quickly and sure he wanted to be friends with Tom from the start but it didn’t seem like they had worked anything out. Which begged the most important question of all.

Did Tom really forgive him? 

“Tord, are you alright?”

“What?” Tord asked, blinking several times before looking at Edd again. He looked concerned. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking. It’s nothing important.”

“Are you sure?” Edd asked, grasping his left hand and giving it a small squeeze. “You can talk to me, you know that. I’m here if you need to talk.” 

“It’s…” Tord started, looking at Edd with a slight frown. He was trying so hard. He was trying so hard to get them al to be friends again. Without Edd he wouldn’t be here in the first place. He’d still be stuck in the alleyway. No, he’d probably be dead by this point. Or in police custody. Edd was trying so hard for him. At least he could make sure he didn’t have to worry anymore than he already had to. “It’s nothing, really,” He lied. “I was just thinking about how we’re all going to fit on your couch. I mean, I know we’re both small but Tom and Matt are giants!” 

“They are pretty tall,” Edd admitted after a moment, smiling back at him. Not letting go of his hand, he stepped forward, guiding him out of the bedroom. He didn’t press the issue, either buying the lie or deciding to leave it be. Instead, they walked past the kitchen and Tord sat down on the couch while Edd began sorting through videos to find the right one. Around the same time he found the right movie, Tom and Matt returned with two large bowls of popcorn and the three joined him on the couch. Edd immediately sat down on one side while Matt took the other, with Tom sitting on the other side of Edd. It was a bit tight with the four of them but they managed to fit, thankfully. 

The jingling of metal was the only warning before the grey cat Edd owned suddenly jumped onto the arm of the couch. Taking careful, calculated steps, it strode confidently across Matt’s legs, then Tord’s, before coming to rest on Edd’s lap and curling into a ball, it’s small body already rumbling with purrs. Petting the cat with one hand, Edd lifted the remote and started the movie.

— —

It was good.

It was really good.

Eating a few small pieces of popcorn from Matt’s bowl, Tord curled his legs in close to his chest, his knees forming the perfect rest for his chin to watch the movie. He had a few grievances, sure. Like why the girl fell in love with her captor. That was kind of weird. Especially since he was a really big dog thing. Sure he acted like a human and was supposed to be a human originally but appearances only went so far, right? She was still in love with a big, scary dog monster.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t scary. Big teeth and claws gave off a frightful first appearance but the same couldn’t be said when he was trying to eat breakfast and got it all over his face. Or when he was taking a bath and then his fur got all puffy after being dried. But he was still a dog and it seemed weird she was in love with him. 

And then she left to go help her dad. Rain began to fall, bouncing gently off the roof of the apartment building as Belle helped her father out of the forest and back home. He really did like the dad the best. His inventions seemed interesting and fantastic. It was a shame everyone thought he was crazy. He was probably the smartest on there, even if he didn’t seem it.

Then Gaston came back.

He didn’t like Gaston at all. 

Not one bit.

As soon as he made another appearance, Tord’s toes curled inwards and his left hand squeezed into a tight fist. It was hard not to get invested in the movie. And it was easy to see who the villain was. He had no redeemable qualities at all. He was arrogant, self-obsessed and pulled the villagers around on a string like puppets. He was popular for no reason at all and was more sinister than the Beast himself. The trickle of rain outside grew heavier as Gaston stole the mirror from Belle and led the villagers to take control of the castle and kill the Beast.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a children’s movie? Why were they talking about murder? 

His jaw clenched as the villagers managed to storm the castle and a fight began. He hadn’t liked the Beast at first. His motivations were wrong and he seemed similar to Gaston at first. He really seemed to fit the description of a monster. But now he was going to die. Now he was going to die and he didn’t want that to happen. He was just sitting there. He wasn’t even trying to fight back when his entire army of pots and pans and other inanimate-turned animate objects tried to defend him. He didn’t move when Gaston burst in to his room. He didn’t move when Gaston aimed a crossbow at him.

The arrow thudded into the Beast’s shoulder and Tord’s hand found Edd’s and held on tight. 

The Beast roared. The rain outside roared. Tord’s hand squeezed Edd’s as he stared at the screen, wide-eyed and terrified for what might happen next. 

A bright, white light suddenly illuminated the window, casting a harsh light on the otherwise dark room. Immediately, the TV suddenly turned off, plunging the room into complete darkness as the light quickly faded away. Only a moment passed before the apartment suddenly shook with a loud booming thunderclap. The rain outside was heavier than it ever was, striking the roof of the apartment over and over again. 

The rain was pouring.

Lightning cracked across the sky again.

Thunder followed in it’s wake, rattling him to the bones.

Tord was screaming.

**BOOM**

“Tord!” Edd cried as his scream died away, leaving him struggling to breathe. His chest ached as the inability to get enough air triggered a horrible fit of coughing. Wrenching his hands away from Edd, he lifted them to his ears, ignoring the searing pain in his right arm to try to cover his ears from the loud, booming noises outside. 

“What’s wrong with him?” _Tom._

“I don’t know, we just need to help him calm down!” _Edd._

“I’ve got an idea, I’ll be right back.” _Matt_

Coughing faded into gasps for air as tears stained his eyes. Choking back a sob, he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands pressed tight against the sides of his head as he tried to block out the loud noises. It didn’t work. It wasn’t working. He could still hear it, even with his hands in the way. He could still feel every crack and closing his eyes didn’t work well enough to block out the harsh, white light. It was behind his eyes he could see it and hear it and his arm hurt and everything hurt and he couldn’t stop crying. He was wheezing. He was gasping. He couldn’t get any oxygen back and every choked heave brought him less and less. A feeling of dread sat in his stomach, growing larger and larger until the thought loomed over him and was impossible to ignore any longer.

He was going to die.

He was going to _die_.

**BOOM**

A heavy weight suddenly jolted him from behind and a pressure settled on his back. Nearly falling off the couch, he managed to catch himself and curl in further, grasping the edges of the blanket that had been thrown on his back and wrapping them around himself, pulling the sheet over his head. It didn’t help. It didn’t help at all. The storm was still outside, he could still hear it and a blanket wasn’t going to do anything.

His body shook under the blanket as another joined it, landing on his back with a less impactful thump. The dread in his stomach had transformed into bubbles, bouncing around until he felt like he could very well puke. His heart pounded in his chest and in his ears and he sobbed as the storm smothered out his breath.

“It’s alright Tord,” A soothing voice said and a hand patted his back through the blankets. The couch shifted near him and Tord tried to choke back his tears as he moved his hands away from his ears and instead reached out, finding the source of the comforting voice. His fingers grasped at a green hoodie and he leaned his head forward, pressing himself against the familiar, reassuring person. 

_Green_.

“Everything is going to be okay, you’re safe,” Another, familiar voice added in an equally calm tone. The blankets shifted slightly and something soft was stuffed in between him and the couch. “See? You’ve got your bear and we’re here for you. You’re safe.”

_Purple._

He was still crying. He was still shaking. It wasn’t helping at all. Coughing, he dug his fingers in tighter to the green hoodie, trying to make sure one of the few things grounding him down didn’t leave. He didn’t want to be alone now. He couldn’t be alone now. But he still felt alone. Sobbing into the green hoodie now, he curled into a ball on the sofa, squeezing his eyes shut yet again and trying to muffle the sound of thunder by burying himself deeper into the soft, green fabric. 

The storm raged on overhead and the power remained hopelessly out, keeping the room plunged in darkness, only to be illuminated by harsh, white light for a few short seconds every time lightning cracked over head. The thunder raged louder and louder with each passing moment. He fell asleep there, crying and shaking until the moment when sleep finally seized his exhausted body, Edd and Matt trying their hardest to comfort him the entire time.

It didn’t help. 

He fell asleep feeling just as scared as when he was in the alleyway. 

He fell asleep feeling just as alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Return of the big bad storm. Certainly not the last time it's going to show up either.
> 
> Also kudos to me, it's still technically Sunday so have an on-time update. Even if it is five minutes before midnight   
> :3c


	19. 21 (-19) Pilots

It took hours for the storm to pass. 

It took longer before a hand gently nudged his left shoulder; waking him out of a dreamless sleep more exhausted and tired then when he had originally fallen asleep. Blinking a few times, he groaned, trying to get his whereabouts. He was lying on his stomach. Squinting, he slowly propped himself up on one elbow, not risking putting any weight on his injured arm. Dragging his head up, he looked at the green sweatshirt in front of him before following it upwards to look at Edd’s face.

“Are you feeling any better?” Edd asked with a smile, looking equally exhausted. Looking around, Tord grimaced as he looked around the darkened room. Like was streaming in through the window nearby, but none of the lights were on. Nothing was on. 

The events that had taken place earlier came rushing back all at once. The movie. The sudden power failure. _The storm_. Groaning, he lifted his right arm, holding his head with a hand. Had he fallen asleep on the couch? His head hurt. His back hurt. Well, everything hurt.

“No,” Tord replied softly, resting his head back down in Edd’s lap again and closing his eyes. He was so tired and he had a headache. Maybe he could just sleep more? He didn’t want to wake up now. “I’m tired.”

“I’m sure,” Edd replied, patting his back. “So, do you want to talk about what happened?” No, not especially. Not at all, actually. He was afraid of thunderstorms. He was afraid of thunder and lightning and it scared him to tears. He didn’t want to talk about it. It had happened twice already and at this point he just wanted to ignore it and hope it didn’t start raining again. “If we talk about it we might be able to better prepare for next time,” Edd added. 

It was a good point, even if he still didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t know why,” Tord replied softly. His hands hadn’t left go of Edd’s sweatshirt, and he instead held on tighter now. His chest felt hot and he closed his eyes, trying to push past the shame. He wanted to be better than that. He didn’t want to scream at the loud, booming crashes of thunder or cry when the room was suddenly filled with bright light. Nobody else did that. Why did he have to be the one who was weak? 

“You don’t need to know why,” Edd said with a shrug. “It’s a phobia. Plenty of people have them. I have them. Matt has them. I think Tom has them too but I can’t speak for him as well. 

“Really?” Tord asked, turning his head so he could look up at Edd’s face again. They all had the same thing? But he had never seen that happen. What were they so afraid of? What did they have to be afraid of? Tom was really the only one that seemed especially aggressive, but that was just around him, right? And that wasn’t being afraid so much at it was just an extraordinary dislike. Or, in this case, mistrust since Tom didn’t believe he had actually lost his memories. 

“Well, sure,” Edd replied. “I get very panicked with certain noises. Yelling, or any kind of raised voice for that matter. Other loud noises don’t do it as much, for some reason.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, lifting his head up to look at the ceiling, leaving Tord to process this new information. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t had any clue, in fact. The events earlier in the day and the discussion with Tom going sour popped into his head again. Had they been yelling then? Certainly voices had been raised but he couldn’t remember properly. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, letting his head rest against Edd’s leg. “I had no idea. I promise I’m not going to yell near you.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Edd replied with a shrug and moved his hand to gently pat the side of his head. “People get angry or overzealous or just excited. I’m used to it.”

“But that doesn’t make it right,” Tord replied insistently. Edd blinked down at him for a moment before a wide smile appeared on his face and he laughed. What? Why was he laughing? What had he said that was funny?

“You know, Tom said the same thing to me earlier today,” Edd replied with a smile. There was a short knock at the door before it opened a bit, just enough for Tom to stick his head in through the door. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

“What, you two were talking about me?” Tom asked, pushing the door open wider so he could step inside the apartment. Walking over to the couch, he looked down at the two of them before taking a flask out of the pocket of his hoodie, unscrewing it and taking a long sip. “So. Thunderstorms?”

“Yeah,” Tord replied, slowly dragging himself up into a sitting position. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know if I was like this…you know. Before.”

“Well, you feeling any better?” Tom asked, looking him over briefly before jerking his head towards the door. "We’re going out.” 

“Out?” Tord echoed faintly. “You mean like, to Matt’s room?” He asked hopefully, despite knowing full well that out usually meant a bit more than just walking down the hallway to another room. 

“Actually, we were all going to go outside,” Edd replied. “While you were asleep we were talking to Matt and we decided we should all go outside and walk around for a bit. You haven’t been outside since you got here and that’s not very healthy.” Oh, he didn’t like that. Going outside was dangerous. What if someone recognized him? What if he got sick again? 

“Is that safe?” He asked, looking between the two. “What if someone calls the police?”  
“Nobody is going to recognize you with that huge wound on your face,” Tom replied with a shrug. “They’re going to be too busy trying to make sure they’re not staring at you to actually get a good look at you. People are uncomfortable with obvious injuries or disabilities.”

“Are you sure?” Tord asked softly, looking towards Edd now for guidance. He was still uncertain but maybe he should go out. It had been a while since he had been outside and his last experience was just stuck in a dark, damp alleyway. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun,” Edd replied with a smile. “We can all go get ice cream while we are out.”

“Besides, Matt is already really excited to go shopping with you. It was his idea.” Tom screwed the lid back on his flask and shoved it inside the pocket to his jacket. Apology or not, he still seemed to have that hint of aggression behind every word he said. “So go get ready.”

He still wasn’t sure about this entire thing. But they all seemed to think it was a good idea. Was there harm in trying? Well yes, he could get arrested or potentially worse. But they really wanted him to go outside with them. Sighing in defeat, Tord slowly climbed off the couch and went to go get his shoes. He’d relent on this one.

— —

Shopping was…fun.

It was also equally exhausting. Matt had shown up to the apartment filled with excitement, bouncing around so much he looked like he could gather up enough energy to exit Earth’s orbit. They had waited long enough for Edd to grab his wallet before Matt grabbed him by his hand and all but dragged him out of the apartment complex and down the street, chattering about where they could go and what they could do. In the end, they settled for going to a nearby mall. 

He didn’t buy anything. He didn’t have any money, of course, but it was more that he didn’t have a desire to get anything. Even just the walk to the mall was enough to make him incredibly tired. Shopping was exhausting as well. They all looked at things but the only one who actually seemed interesting in buying instead of just window shopping was Matt. Tom all but had to drag him out of the toy store so they could move on.

He lost count of how many stores they went into before Edd pointed out a bookstore, looking back at the group. “Oh, can we stop in there? I’ll be fast, I just want to see if they have a sequel I’m looking for.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tom replied with a shrug. “But we’re leaving to go get ice cream after this.”  
“Aw, but I wanted to go back to the toy store,” Matt protested from the back of the group. Tord coughed loudly, rubbing his hands against his head. This was exhausting. He hadn’t expected a little shopping trip to be so draining. But he followed the group into the bookstore, squinting at the titles lining the shelves. Nothing seemed remotely familiar. The titles were foreign, the authors were foreign, everything was just alien to him. Not that he expected anything different at this point. Trying to soothe his aching head, Tord sad down on a chair near the corner rested his head against his hand, closing his eyes for a few moments.

The rest didn’t last long enough before a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Tord?” Edd asked as Tord cracked his eyes open. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.” He just felt a bit tired, that was all. Tord climbed to his feet, rubbing the side of his head before looking at the bag Edd was holding in his hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah, I was pretty surprised. It’s been sold out everywhere I checked. Are you sure you’re alright though?” 

“I’m fine,” Tord insisted, walking towards the front of the bookstore where Tom and Matt were waiting. Edd looked like he wanted to persist the topic more, but just followed along behind him to join up with the rest of the group. “Can we go get ice cream now?” The three others nodded and the group adjusted accordingly, moving towards the exit of the mall so they could go to wherever it was they were going to get ice cream. Good, he didn’t think he was going to be able to take any more shopping. He was going to collapse and sleep as soon as they got back to the apartment. He just didn’t have this kind of stamina. Coughing into his hands, he frowned before blowing hot air onto his hands. The mall was so cold. 

“Hey.”

Tord looked up, frowning slightly as Tom lagged behind the others, joining him in the back of the group. A plastic bag was ungracefully shoved into his arms and Tord nearly dropped it in surprise. 

“Here. Sorry for kicking your ass.”

Looking between him and the plastic back, Tord frowned slightly before reaching into the bag, pulling out a book from the plastic. The outside was very simple, smooth leather dyed a slight shade of purple with a strip of elastic to keep the book closed when not in use. Turning the book over in his hands, Tord looked at it before turning his gaze to Tom questioningly. 

“It’s a journal. I was talking to Matt while you were asleep and you said you were looking to maybe get one so you could write down things or whatever.”

“Oh,” Tord replied, looking down at the journal. That was…really touching, actually. It was a very thoughtful gift. “Thank you,” Tord replied with a smile, looking back up at him. He placed the book back in the plastic bag to hold onto it before a harsh cough forced its way past his throat. He really was starting to feel tired. Exhausted, even. 

The sun outside the mall was blinding. Was it always that bright? It really didn’t help with his headache Matt, Edd and Tom were all talking ahead of him as he struggled to keep up, losing distance by the second. It was a fast downhill spiral. Even outside the mall it was still cold. His legs had started to ache, along with the rest of his body. His headache had only increased with time. How far was it to the ice cream place? He just wanted to get back to a bed and sleep this off.

There was no way this could get any worse. 

“Boss?”

Not unless Matt decided he wanted to stop in another toy store. 

“Boss!”

Tord jerked backwards as a hand suddenly grabbed his own, yanking him backwards. The action was incredibly jarring and sent made his ears ring, while the plastic bag he had been holding slipped out of his hands, falling to the ground. Turning his head back, he squinted up at the two strangers wearing matching blue coats and red turtlenecks staring down at him. He couldn’t quite place their expressions, admittedly, but it could just be he was incredibly distracted by those massive eyebrows one of the men had. Wow, those were some crazy caterpillars he had on his face. He couldn’t even stop staring at them if he tried. 

“What?” he asked, vaguely aware that the other man with smaller eyebrows had been saying something. What did they want? His head was spinning. It was getting harder and harder to make sense of anything. A cool hand pressed against his forehead and he flinched away, trying to put some distance between himself and the strangers. “Stop,” He protested, trying to jerk his arm free from the iron grip around his wrist.

“He’s got a fever. He’s probably delusional. It’s a good thing we found him now. We need get him back before it gets any worse.” The man with normal eyebrows pulled his hand back, looking towards his companion with a concerned frown. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

Tord looked back towards Edd and the others. Having apparently noticed his disappearance, they had stopped about ten feet away and were looking back at him. Edd stepped back towards them, a frown creeping onto his face as he did so. 

“Tord, what’s going on?” Matt asked, concern clear in both his expression and his tone. “Who are these two? We’ve never seen them before, right? Right guys?”

 ”I don’t know,” Tord replied, trying to twist his wrist away now, failing this time as well. Were these two people police? He didn’t know who they were. But they clearly knew who he was and had no intention of letting him go. 

"No, we don't know who they are," Tom suddenly replied, stepping past Edd, his eyes narrowed considerably. "But it looks like they know Tord."

“Paul, we need to go,” The man with the regular eyebrows whispered as Tom took another step forward. It probably would have been nicer to not refer to them by the size of their eyebrows but at this point he was starting to get freaked out and just a little bit scared of the fact they weren’t letting him go. 

“You’re right,” Huge eyebrows replied and let go of his wrist. For a brief moment he was free and took a sharp step backwards, only for arms to suddenly wrap around his waist and lift him up, effortlessly tossing him over the man’s shoulder. The motion not only rattled his head, but also forced the air out of his lungs, sending him into a coughing fit. Trying to catch his breath, Tord clung to the back of the man’s blue coat as the two strangers turned and fled, running down the street as quickly as they could away from his friends. No! He didn’t want to leave them. Not when he was just starting to get along with Tom. Not when he actually had people he felt like he could trust and rely on when he was so lost and confused. Trying to wiggle free, he reached out a hand back towards his friends, attempting to reach them even as he was dragged further and further away.

“Edd!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Return of Paul and Patryk!
> 
> Also, sorry for the constant delays guys. I'm trying hard to fix my schedule around writing so it isn't all at night and really late.


	20. No Soldier Left Behind

When Edd had first carried him out of the alleyway on his back, he had been rocked to sleep by the gentle motion of Edd moving forward. He had been dizzy and sick, sure, but he could remember feeling comfortable and at ease enough to quickly fall into a slumber. It was peaceful, soothing and nice.

This felt more like he had been flung over the shoulder of a very pissed off kangaroo.

Draped unceremoniously over Big Eyebrows’s back, he wheezed, trying desperately to cling onto the back of his blue coat and find some way to properly anchor himself down. Every time the man’s feet his the ground in his run, the shoulder Tord was flung over drove deeper and deeper into his stomach, driving the air out of his lungs and sending him into another coughing fit. He couldn’t even manage to draw in a proper breath before the air was being shoved right back out of his lungs again. Only a few moments into the sprint and he was left too dizzy and weak to fight back and his attempts to free himself quickly decreased until he went limp, using all of his remaining willpower to just try to hold on. 

He didn’t want to leave. 

He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t know who either of these two were but regardless of any relation they could possibly have to him, every step they took dragged him farther and farther away from his friends. Farther and farther away from Edd. He didn’t care if he could never go outside again. He’d spend every second inside Edd’s apartment if it just meant he didn’t have to leave them behind now. He wasn’t ready.

The man holding him abruptly stopped and his head spun as he was lifted up off the man’s shoulder. Nausea struck, adding to the list of growing ailments including his cough and dizziness that were really making it hard to focus. Instead of being handcuffed or even set down on the ground, Big Eyebrows practically hurled him into the air. For a moment his eyes widened in shock and he braced for an impact with the cold, hard floor, but the fall was cut short as he landed instead on a cushioned seat in the back of a car, somehow managing to avoid smashing his head on the opposite door. 

“Did you just _throw_ him?” Normal Eyebrows yelled as he jerked open the front door of the car open and the engine roared to life a few moments later. He sounded mad.

“…No?” Big Eyebrows replied, looking and sounding extraordinarily guilty. He started to slam the backseat door shut when a hand suddenly caught his own and a fist slammed into his face with a loud crack. Stumbling backwards, he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground, his hands cradling his nose as blood dripped between his fingers. From his place in the car his view of the scene was blocked, but Tord could still make out the blue hoodie of his rescuer.

"Tom?” Tord whispered hoarsely, trying to pick himself up off the seat of the car, his thoughts still scrambled from the run. His arm shook under the effort of trying to support his upper body and he didn’t last long before it buckled under him and he crashed back down onto the seat. 

“Stay down, asshole,” Tom snarled, shaking traces of blood off his fist as he turned to the car and the open back seat. His furious expression didn’t fade in the slightest as his black eyes locked with Tord’s. His stomach flipped under the angry expression and he flinched as a hand grabbed his ankle, squeezing it with a practically inhuman strength until it hurt.

“Tom, stop! You’re hurting me!” 

“I should have known,” Tom hissed, pulling on his leg now, trying to drag him out of the backseat of the car. Tord’s hands flew out, trying desperately to grasp at anything that he could hold onto to stop Tom from just dragging him out of the car. He looked absolutely murderous. “I did know. I knew it all along. I was right.” What? What in the world was he talking about?

“Edd!” Tord called out desperately, his hand catching on the back of a seat and he held on even as Tom pulled tighter and tighter, his fingers digging into his ankle now. His vision blurred from tears as he tried to jerk his foot away from Tom and retreat deeper into the car. But if there was one thing Tom was it was strong and his grip dug in tighter in response, nails digging into his skin until he drew blood. His throat tightened and his stomach flipped at the sight of the red liquid. Queasiness took hold in an instant and his head spun as he closed his eyes, trying to fight back the dizziness that shook his head and rattled his thoughts until only one remained. He needed to get out. He needed to escape. He needed to get away. 

“HELP!”

His cry for assistance was met, but not by any of his friends. Having climbed to his feet at this point, the man with the big eyebrows pulled his coat aside to reveal a holster hiding a small pistol that was barely noticeable from the outside. Slowly pulling out the pistol to avoid notice, he paused for a moment before pulling his arm back and smashing the barrel of the pistol against Tom’s temple. His head jerked to the side immediately and the other side of his face smashed against the open car door before he fell forward, crumpling onto the car seat, his grip on Tord’s ankle slack. Jerking away from the limp body lying half in the car, Tord huddled against the other side of the door, struggling to breathe as his entire body shook. Tossing Tom the rest of the way into the car, Big Eyebrows slid in and quickly slammed the door shut behind him as Matt and Edd ran down the street, almost reaching the car before it peeled away from the sidewalk with a screech. In the front seat, the second man heaved a sigh of relief, glancing back at the three of them through the rearview mirror. Immediately, his mouth twisted into a frown.

“Are you okay?” He asked as the second man climbed over the center console of the car, crawling into the passenger’s seat, one hand cupped over his nose but both of them equally stained with his own blood. He glanced over at his companion briefly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel. “Paul? Are you alright?”

“‘M fine,” Paul replied, grasping for a few napkins that had been shoved in the side of the door to wipe the blood off his hands and face. “I don’t think it’s broken.” The other man heaved a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair and focusing on the road again. 

In the backseat, Tord pressed himself against the door, drawing his legs in and gripping his right arm, trying to ground himself as the world blurred between tears and dizziness. It hurt. His arm hurt and his ankle hurt and his head hurt, but everything seemed to fade around him as he stared at Tom. 

Tom was bleeding.

The side of his head was bleeding. 

Everything seemed to fade away around him. Voices of the two strangers in the front seat turned to distant static muffled by the ringing in his ears. The pain faded next into a strange numbness, followed by every other sensation until he was left with just his eyes, staring blankly at the blood dripping down the side of Tom’s face. Time dragged by without a thought, leaving Tord in the back seat, knees pressed against his chest and his eyes locked on the limp body in front of him. 

He didn’t move when the car veered off the road, bouncing along an unpaved, gravel pathway that led into a forest.

He didn’t respond when the door opened and he was helped out of the car and away from Tom by the two strangers, their voices still muffled and faint. 

Looking up silently, he blinked up at the steel walls around where the car had been parked. Armed people wearing the same blue coat and red turtleneck moved to the other side of the car and dragged out Tom’s limp body, pulling it in the other direction as the two strangers helped him down a hallway. The voices were still muffled, but he could make out a few of them as they dragged him along.

“...fever is…”

“…arm…bandages…”

“…Delusional…”

“Red leader.”

A door opened in front of them and they walked through into a bright, white room. Hands guided him to lie down on a table. Something pinched his arm. 

He couldn’t remember falling asleep.  
   
— —   
   
The drugged sleep was probably one of the best he could remember. There were no nightmares. There weren’t any dreams. It was just a much needed sleep.  
   
He didn’t know how long he had been asleep before his eyes finally cracked open and he stared up at the bright, white lights above him. His eyes snapped closed immediately and he groaned, turning his head away from the light. Whispers reached his ears and footsteps followed. Someone was in the room with him. Was it Edd?  
   
“The lights are off, Boss.”  
   
Okay, not Edd then. The voice sounded eerily familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Opening his eyes, he sighed in relief as his eyes weren’t assaulted by bright light before turning his head to the side where the voice had come from. Two figures came into focus standing alongside him. One look at those huge eyebrows the one was sporting and the memories of what had happened flooded back. Going outside. The sudden appearance of these two. The kidnapping.   
   
 _Tom_.  
   
Pulling himself upright with one arm, he frowned before looking at his left arm. There was a needle stuck in it, connected to to a line that led up to a bag of clear fluid. _An IV._ And more importantly, his sweatshirt was missing. He was left wearing a grey shirt similar to the one he had been wearing originally, though noticeably cleaner.   
   
It smelled like flowers.  
   
“Are you feeling okay?” Big Eyebrows added. He looked nervous. "You were gone for a long time we were all really worried.”  
   
“Where’s Tom?” Tord asked, turning to stare at him. They hadn’t locked him up or anything. Were they not police? “Where am I?”  
   
“You’re in the base, sir,” The other man-Normal Eyebrows-replied. “Are you feeling better? You didn’t look good when we found you.” He looked worried. Why did he look worried?  
   
“Who are you?” Tord replied cautiously. Were they friends? The others hadn’t appeared to recognize them. Did he have other friends? Two was hard enough to manage. A hand reached out towards his forehead and he quickly ducked backwards, retreating as far as he could on the bed to stop them from touching him. “What base?”  
   
“What do you mean?” Normal Eyebrows asked, his worry only increasing as he exchanged a glance with Big Eyebrows and drew his hand back. They both looked concerned. “It’s us. Paul and Patryk. We’re your pilots.”   
   
He had pilots? What kind of person had pilots? Didn’t he live with Edd and Matt before? Where had these two come from? He took a deep breath, only to cut off halfway through as pain exploded in his chest and he doubled over, coughing loudly. In a second the two were there, one on each side, hands gripping the sides of the bed but clearly uncertain of how to act. He coughed a few times, each one making his chest ache but the fit finally ended and he moved his arms, wrapping them around his own chest until the pain gradually faded into a dull ache. Ah…..ow….  
   
“Are you sick?” Big Eyebrows asked. He had names now but he didn’t know which one was which. The nicknames would have to stay a little while longer, then. “What hurts? We can get a doctor to look at you.”  
   
“No,” Tord replied, looking over at him with a frown. “I want to know where I am. I want to know where you’ve taken me. I want to know where Tom is. And I want to know who you are.” He placed his good arm on the bed next to him so he could lean against it, trying to take small breaths. The deep ones hurt his chest more. He’d have to avoid them for now. “I don’t remember anything,” He added, his frown starting to look more like an all-out scowl. “I have no idea who either of you two are. I have _amnesia_.”  
   
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. The two stared at him in shocked quiet that lasted far too long. Scratching at the bandages on his arm, Tord turned his gaze down to his lap, refusing to look back at them. He didn’t know who they were. Any previous relationships didn’t mean anything anymore because he wasn’t that person anymore.   
   
“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Normal Eyebrows suddenly whispered, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “They’ll be panic. Even more panic than when he was missing.”   
   
“Maybe we can fix it?” Big Eyebrows replied nervously, “I mean, he always carried around that journal with him. Maybe if we find it and he reads it it’ll jog his memories.”  
   
“You mean the red book?” Normal Eyebrows replied. “I guess. But I don’t know where it is. He never let anyone know where he put it. Especially not us since I think he was worried we would burn it on accident.”  
   
“That’s ridiculous.”  
   
“I mean, we did crash the plane-“  
   
“Okay good point.”  
   
“What are you talking about?” Tord asked softly, flinching as their eyes turned back to look at him. Maybe it was better to just let them talk over him. He didn’t really know what was going on, after all. It was better not to interrupt them and ask stupid questions.   
   
“You have a journal that you write down everything in,” Normal Eyebrows explained gently. "You’ve had for years. If you read it, it might help you recover your memories since it’s everything that’s happened to you since you’ve met us. Possibly even more.”  
   
“But until then you can’t tell anyone here that you have amnesia,” Big Eyebrows replied, "The Red Army will fall apart without the Red Leader.” There it was. The name on the wanted poster. He had almost forgotten about it. Wait, if he was the Red Leader then clearly it would imply he was in charge of the Red Army. But he couldn’t do that! He didn’t have any knowledge or experience to handle anything close to that. He could barely handle himself, he couldn’t start thinking about being in charge of other things too.   
   
He broke out into another fit of coughing and the pain returned like a nail in his chest. Bringing his hands up to cough into them, he gasped for air when the fit finally ended. He had coughed up something nasty and yellowish looking into his hands. Like spit only thicker. He frowned and started to pick himself up off the bed further, trying to swing his legs over the side so he could get up and walk around. But he was quickly cut off by the two men quickly pushing him back down until he was laying on the bed.   
   
“Oh no, we learned our lesson,” Normal Eyebrows declared. "You’re going to rest here until you’re better. And we’re both going to stay here to make sure you don’t sneak off anywhere.”  
   
“But I don’t want to stay here,” Tord replied hoarsely.   
   
“You aren’t going anywhere until you get better,” Big Eyebrows insisted, wiping his hand clean with a towel. “And you aren’t going to get better until we fix whatever is wrong with your chest. I’m going to page a doctor so just don't talk about anything related to the Red Army or where you've been or your amnesia. In fact, it's probably best to just not talk at all.”  
   
“Or look as angry as possible,” Normal Eyebrows added and the other man nodded in agreement.  
   
“But I want to go back to my friends,” Tord insisted. He could feel himself starting to cry again. He just wanted to go back. He wanted to see Matt and he wanted to see Edd. He wanted to sit on the couch and watch movies with them. He wanted to look at Matt’s novelty toy collection. He wanted his sweatshirt back and he wanted that bear that Matt gave him and he wanted to see his friends. Tears stained his eyes as he lifted his arm to cover his eyes, closing tight as he tried to stop himself from sobbing.  
   
" _Please._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh honey you aren't going back any time soon. There's still so much left to do.


	21. Home Sweet Home

The one with the untrimmed hedges for eyebrows was apparently named Paul.

There was an awful lot you could pick up over several days sitting in one room with no windows. Not just names, of course, bit little things about people. The way Paul not just smoked cigarettes, but chewed on the ends until the cigarette was twisted and broken. The way he scratched at the scar over his right eye when the silence became too stiffening and the way he sat perfectly still in the chair by the corner, his eyes darting to find the source of even the smallest bit of noise. The way he sighed softly every time he unwrapped the bandages over Tord’s arm to change them and seemed to grow more and more defeated every time he tried to spark Tord’s memory with names or pictures, only to fail each and every time until finally the questions stopped altogether and the quiet in the room stretched on for longer and longer.

The way his entire demeanor changed every time Patryk walked into the room. The way the two always seemed to brush past each other despite there being plenty of other space in the room. How Patryk would rest his hand more often than not on Paul’s shoulder and how Paul’s ears would turn red whenever the two even barely touched. How Paul would lean against Patryk sometimes, letting his head rest on the other man’s shoulder while they held hands, taking a moment to detach himself from all the built up stress and just _breathe_.

There certainly was a lot of things you could learn in just a few days. 

He learned Paul loved Patryk.

— —

“Your arm is stable for now,” Paul declared, holding his right hand gently upright so he could examine the unbandaged limb while Tord did everything in his power to avoid looking at his own arm or even so much as thinking about it. He could still feel his head swimming despite keeping his eyes firmly glued to the white wall. He could feel his arm aching despite Paul only barely touching the limb with a gloved hand, leaving behind a burning sensation wherever his fingers touched. “It’s still bad but the antibiotics have helped a lot. We can put off talking about surgery for a while as long as we watch it."

“Okay,” Tord mumbled back, squeezing his eyes shut as a warm hand pressed against his forehead, flinching back into the mattress of the bed and turning his face slightly away. It had been a while and he still hadn’t grown used to this. He didn’t mind people touching him but those people had always been….well….

_”He’s too hot. We need to cool him down somehow."_

“Your fever has gone down a lot too. That’s a good sign.”

“Okay,” Tord repeated, gripping the sheets tightly with his left hand until his knuckles turned white, his grip not relaxing any even when the hand moved away from his head. Pressure on his arm that made him sick to his stomach indicated Paul had started wrapping his arm up again in clean, white bandages. It didn’t take too long before he was done and the hands moved away from his arm, leaving him with a dull, throbbing ache that ran from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. Turning his head back towards his arm, he looked over the white bandages covering his injuries with a tight-lipped frown. There had been talk at first about just removing the arm altogether, but Paul and Patryk had talked over his head for a bit and decided it was better to try to preserve the arm, even though the infection had almost killed him.

His lungs were an entirely separate matter, of course.

They had dragged him to get x-ray and discovered his worsening cough was not actually just the lingering symptoms of an especially stubborn cold, but rather pneumonia. He, of course, had no idea what that was, but after a brief explanation and after seeing the looks exchanged between Patryk and Paul, he was absolutely positive any kind of fluid was not supposed to be in his lungs. Patryk had reassured him that pneumonia was not nearly as bad as it sounded, and it cleared up fairly quickly with proper medication in healthy individuals. 

Unfortunately, he was nowhere near being healthy.

His chest had grown tighter and tighter over time and breathing became more and more difficult, forcing him to draw short, fast breaths. Even if his fever had broken recently he still felt oddly cold. The cough was by far the worst symptom, however. The fits had gotten more and more frequent and lasted longer and longer, leaving him wheezing and breathless after it was done. 

They had put him on some kind of antibiotics but it hadn’t seemed to have any kind of immediate affect on his lungs. His arm may have been improving but he didn’t feel any better. He had been fine with just ignoring his limb and hoping the problem would go away on his own. If he didn’t touch it, it didn’t hurt as much. But his lungs weren’t something he could avoid or ignore. Every time he sucked in a breath his chest hurt. Every time he tried to move his body ached and his heart raced. His body shook from a chill only he seemed to be able to feel. His stomach twisted in knots until he couldn’t even think about the possibility of eating. 

But it didn’t change the fact he wanted so desperately to go back to Edd’s apartment. 

From the start he had pled with them to let him leave, sobbing as he thought about how concerned his friends would be for not only his own well being, but also Tom’s. The two of them had been taken so suddenly and without notice and Edd and Matt had no way of knowing they were okay. Hell, he had no way of knowing Tom was okay. Every time he questioned them or asked about the black-eyed man, the question was immediately avoided and his focus redirected to something else. It had taken him about three times asking for him to realize what they were doing but if it was an attempt to keep him from worrying, it wasn’t working. He knew Tom didn’t like him at all. He tried to be friends and his actions were refuted sharply and violently. Tom scared him now. Every time he fell asleep he saw those burning, black eyes screaming at him in his nightmares. 

But there was time for reflection in the pristine white room. There was time to think when the only people he saw were the two pilots and they didn’t seem very comfortable holding casual conversations with him yet, leaving the space occupied by silence more often than not. And in the quiet of the tiled room, sitting on the hospital bed and staring up at the ceiling with little else to do, Tord had looked deep inside himself and realized something very important.

He still wanted to be Tom’s friend.

“So Boss,” Paul continued after about a minute of silence as he put medical supplies away in cabinet, locking it with a small key. They were the only ones in the room so clearly, they were concerned about him getting his hands on the medical supplies. Maybe they thought he might do something drastic since they weren’t letting him leave.

“Tord,” he corrected immediately, frowning as he watched Paul work. Patryk was out of the room again, like most of the time, leaving just the two of them there. Apparently Paul had been designated as his primary care-giver while Patryk was tasked with trying to make sure everything else didn’t fall apart and find the red book. So far, there were no hints about where it could be. 

“Boss,” Paul insisted, looking back at him again as Tord’s frown grew. He was refusing to separate whatever person he had known before from the person he was now. It was weird and strange and he hated it. He wasn’t anyone’s ‘boss’ or ‘leader’. He was just…Tord. “I was taking with Pat while you were sleeping before and we both agreed that, if you want to, you could walk around the base for a bit. You’ve been in this room for a long time and a little change of scenery might be nice. We won’t force you but a little exercise might help you feel better.”

The idea honestly came straight out of left field and seemed to smack him across the face. Leave the room? Immediately potential issues burst forth inside his mind, clawing their way to the forefront of his thoughts. What if he left and fell and hurt himself? What if he came back and got even more sick? The thoughts were quickly pushed from his mind as he shook his head slightly. No, it was better this way. If he went out of the room, he could find more people to ask for Tom. He could even just enjoy walking around somewhere new before staying in this pristine white room drove him absolutely mad. 

“Really?” He asked, skepticism quickly setting in. They had isolated him right away after kidnapping him and kept the isolation firm as soon as they realized he had lost his memories. They had refused to answer any of his questions and now, rather abruptly, they were just letting him walk outside the room he had been stuck in for days. Why? 

“Sure. Patryk can walk you around and give you a tour of the base at the same time.” Paul walked back to the bedside and extended a hand. Looking between the outstretched hand and the man’s face, Tord frowned for a moment before reaching out his left hand and taking the aid, lifting himself upright and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Paul pulled him to his feet and for a moment he stumbled before managing to catch himself, his grip on the aiding hand tightening into a firm squeeze. He took a moment to catch his breath and fix his balance before he straighten himself upright. “Are you alright, Boss?”

“I’m fine,” Tord replied dismissively his frown quickly growing again, “And it’s Tord.” Reaching out, he grasped the rolling stand holding his IV bag with his right hand. Paul looked skeptical for a moment but didn’t comment, instead guiding him slowly towards the door as Tord wheeled the IV pole after him and tried to regain his lost sense of balance. Even just the smallest bit of movement was a lot of effort, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure his lungs were going to be able to handle a full tour. 

Paul opened the door to reveal Patryk loitering in the hallway, holding a folded blue coat in his arms. Looking up when they exited, a smile quickly formed on the other man’s face as he walked closer, beaming at the both of them. It was a bit…weird. His cheerfulness just seemed far too out of place and Tord found himself deliberately avoiding eye contact. 

“Red Leader!” Patryk said with a smile, holding out the blue coat he was holding. “I’m glad you’re feeling well. I couldn’t find your diary yet but I did manage to locate your coat.”

“Actually, have you seen my hoodie?” Tord asked, sparing a glance back up at him. The look exchanged between Patryk and Paul did not go unnoticed before Patryk sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, his smile never fading. 

“I’m sorry, it must still be with the laundry. Why don’t you wear the coat and we can find your hoodie together later?” 

_Liar._

Snapping his teeth together, Tord frowned slightly but let go of Paul’s hand and accepted the coat. He slowly unfolded the coat to look at it, running his eyes over the golden buttons and sharp, proper creases of the coat. Paul and Patryk had been wearing the same blue coats when they had grabbed him off the streets, although inside the base they were only wearing the red turtlenecks. He frowned for a moment but relented and started to slide one arm into the coat. Immediately, both Paul and Patryk were there and hands grasped at the coat, trying to help him into the cloth and make sure he didn’t fall over trying to stand on his own.

“I can dress myself,” Tord snapped, his own temper surprising him but apparently not affecting the other two as much as they quickly finished getting his other arm into the sleeve of the coat before stepping back, apparently pleased with their work. He had spent too long in that white room. He had never been this angry before. He just didn’t want to be here. At all. He wanted to go back home.

“Sorry, Red Leader.”

“It’s Tord,” He insisted, looking at Patryk with a frown. “Just call me Tord. _Please._ ”

Patryk seemed surprised for a moment and blinked down at him, but smiled and reached out, patting his hair in some kind of weird form of affection that completely caught him off guard. “Alright, Tord,” Patryk replied. “I’ll try to remember that. Let’s go look around. Maybe getting a good look at everything will help jog your memories.” 

They really didn’t consider what he wanted here, did they? They were either too busy looking up at him, calling him Boss or Red Leader or something along those lines, or they were too busy look down on him by helping him dress himself or talking over him to one another. They didn’t look at him and wonder what he wanted in all of this. If they did, they’d understand immediately he didn’t want to be here. They’d let him go back to Edd and Matt.

They’d let him go back home.

Clinging to the IV pole, he coughed loudly, hunching over as his chest ached with each and every cough, driving the pain closer and closer to his heart. Each cough was followed by a gasp for air that quickly turned into a cough itself, continuing on for what felt like minutes when it probably spanned only a few seconds. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and an eternity later the fit ended and he was left gasping for air, holding stubbornly on the pole to stop himself from tumbling over. 

“Tord, you don’t have to do this if you aren’t feeling up to it,” Patryk quickly said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. The concern was clear in his voice, even if Tord didn’t look up to see his expression. He was worried. 

“I’m fine,” Tord mumbled back, waving away the concern with a hand and forcing himself upright again. He needed this. He needed to walk around and get some air and get out of that stuffy white room for a bit. He couldn’t stand to be trapped in there, laying on that bed for a moment later. He needed to feel less trapped. “I’ll feel better when we start walking.” Patryk didn’t look even slightly convinced but relented and waved off Paul before walking forward, moving slowly enough as not to lose Tord or even let him out of his sight. 

“So this is the medical wing on the East side of the building. Your office is in the center so we can go there last. We can start with the armory first….”

— — 

They saw an awful lot of people just walking around. Too many people. His already spinning head was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people that stopped short in whatever they were doing to offer up some kind of a salute to him as he walked by. He did his best to just avoid eye contact and try not to look at the stiff gestures, deciding ignoring and pretending they didn’t exist was clearly the best way to avoid any awkwardness. It didn’t work very well but at least nobody tried to talk to him. That would have been absolutely disastrous.

Patryk talked about the rooms they visited, giving details on how he had built almost all of the weapons in the armory save several guns that they had instead stolen from some shipment and ended up going unsold and simply introduced into their armory instead of trying to wriggle some kind of profit out of them. None of the weapons looked even remotely familiar so after a short while they moved on, Tord’s chest tightening slightly more as they walked.

They passed the sleeping quarters next that housed most of the army, save Paul, Patryk and Red Leader. Apparently they all had official rooms in the sleeping quarters, but Red Leader just slept at his desk or didn’t sleep at all. Apparently he was notorious for long hours and lack of self care. How pleasant. Paul and Patryk slept in a refurbished room next door just in case he needed something during the night. They moved on from there very quickly, only pausing for a short while. His heart throbbed in his ribcage, growing louder and louder with every passing step

The base had a hall Patryk refused to go down. The door was heavily sealed and armed and before Tord could even ask what was behind the door, Patryk was already pulling him forward, showing off the cafeteria where soldiers could eat and socialize when they were not on duty. The hall did not go unmentioned and, when asked, Patryk simply shrugged in response. 

“It’s not a good place to be. It’s better to just avoid it.”

— — 

The rest of the tour was rather uneventful except for the squeezing in his chest increasing with each passing moment. By the time the tour ended and they reached his office he could hardly breathe altogether. Wheezing, he walked away from Patryk as the man gave some kind of a speech about the glorious things Red Leader planned in this room, instead finding an inviting corner and sliding to the ground. Thankfully the IV was long enough so he could lay down without ripping the needle out of his arm, so he did exactly that and let his head come to rest on the cold tile below.

“Are you alright?” Patryk asked, his voice dripping with concern as he approached, sitting down alongside him. Tord’s eyes already slipped closed and he let out a loud sigh. 

“I’m just tired,” he replied and a hand quickly tugged at his arm, pulling him back to his feet again. His energy was gone already. It had slipped away from him without him noticing at all, leaving him to be pulled around like a rag doll with little he could do to protest. 

“Come, sit,” Patryk replied gently, guiding him to sit at the desk in a chair that was far too comfy for any reasonable standards. He had managed to acquire a pillow from somewhere and with little protest Tord let his head rest on the pillow, his eyes quickly slipping closed. Gathering up a blanket from a nearby bin, Patryk quickly covered Tord’s back with the cloth, standing faithfully nearby as the man quickly fell asleep, absolutely exhausted from the tour. 

It wasn’t until he was positive Tord was totally asleep did he carefully reach out and gently pat the top of his head, a small, sad smile creeping onto his face.

“Welcome home, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally exhausted. I'm going to take a tip from Tord's book here and go to sleep.
> 
> Still no sign of Tom tho


	22. Intermission Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning: There is some minor Paultryk fluff in this chapter. Nothing NSFW or even remotely close to that, but I know with everything that happened some people don't want to see anything including some fluffy stuff so I figured I'd slap a warning here.

With a heavy sigh, Patryk closed the door to the office behind him, leaving Red Leader to sleep. He needed the rest after everything he had been through and just letting him relax was really the only thing they could do for him.

Even if it meant withholding information from him.

His teeth found the nail of his right thumb and chewed it nervously. It was an old habit, really, carried over from when he was much younger. His anxiety hadn’t decreased very much from those days, but he had gotten much better at coping with stressful situations. He had thankfully managed to quit biting most of his nails, but the thumbs likely would be worn down and chewed to pieces until he died.

“Are we just not going to tell him?”

Patryk looked up at Paul, his lips turning down into a slight frown as he did so. The expression was mirrored on Paul’s face as he took a step forward, moving away from the office and towards the infirmary. Tord would likely sleep for some time, giving them and opportunity to grab some supplies. Like his antibiotics for when he woke up, and some new bandages wouldn’t hurt either. A couple of his injuries had reopened while he was gone so it was important to change the bandages even more frequently to keep the area clean. Everything was looking good so far so it would be a shame if they suddenly lost all of their hard work over a couple unchanged bandages. When they had suggested the possibility of removing the arm to Tord on the first day they brought him back, he hadn’t had the best reaction.

He hadn’t been very happy after waking up from his drug induced sleep either, but at least it helped calm him down and he didn’t hurt himself.

“We can tell him once his condition isn’t so serious,” Patryk replied softly with a slight shake of his head. His teeth bit down hard on his nail and something broke the wrong way. A sharp pain snapped through his finger before fading into a dull throb as his nail bled from a small but painful cut. A frown formed on his face as he quickly shook out his hand, trying to drive the pain away from his finger. He really had to be more careful about that. “We can’t afford to add any more stress. It’s kinder to keep him in the dark.”

“The last time we told him something while he was sick he decided to take it into his own hands,” Paul replied, nodding with agreement. Still, he didn’t look exactly happy about the conclusion they had reached. The cigarette in his mouth was bent in all sorts of angles. It was odd that they both dealt with stress by chewing things. Red Leader had always insisted they stop doing it, but he wasn’t exactly a shining example of how to deal with stress. Patryk would take chewing his nails any day to not sleeping for days on end. Their own habits seemed remarkably mild compared to their superior’s. "Look where that got us.”

“I was more concerned about the fact that when you told him we might have to remove his arm he tried to rip out his own IV and stab you with it,” Patryk admitted, taking Paul’s hand in his own as he walked down the hallway. Of course, an IV wasn’t anywhere close to a good weapon, but it was a good attempt and it nailed the lid in the coffin for making sure there were no pointy objects left near him. Of course, that didn't mean the arm issue was dropped. He'd never really recover from what had happened, after all, and eventually he was going to reach a breaking point were he might actually listen to them about surgery. “If anything, losing his memories made him much more skittish. I don’t think he would respond well to us telling him he almost died, let alone the fact he still could die. He might just try to throw the entire bed at you next time.” A smile cracked on his face. It was tough but a little bit of humor might help them out. They’d spent so long trying to find Tord and when they did actually spot him by pure chance, he was practically on death’s doorstep. The infection had spread into his lungs from his arm. He could have died. He _would_ have died. Had they managed to find him only hours later the damage could have been too great for him to live with. And while the injury on his arm might fade to scars and his pneumonia could be cured, the damage to his lungs from the spreading infection would leave him forever scarred. He’d never be able to breathe properly again.

The silence between them was uncomfortable long.

“He doesn’t remember us,” Paul finally muttered, trailing behind Patryk by a half step. His uncovered eye was averted away from Patryk, instead focusing on the floor with his head slightly to the side. “He doesn’t remember either of us or any of _this_.”

“He’ll remember,” Patryk replied firmly, leading them onwards towards the infirmary again. Since they weren’t taking time to look around the rest of the base, it didn’t take very long to get there and in no time Patryk was pushing the door open. His hand slipped away from Paul as he turned towards the cabinets, opening them up to grab supplies. Tord had spent far too long trapped in the infirmary. They were worried about him, sure, but it might be better for his spirit if he was able to walk around more. See sights other than just the two of them and the white walls and white ceiling of the infirmary. Paul had lapsed into a silence so he occupied the time by humming to himself, trying to pick out everything they could need for when Tord woke up. Mostly just bandages and antibiotics.

“He wants to leave, Pat.”

Patryk paused mid-reach, his hand brushing over a roll of white bandages.

“He doesn’t want to stay here. He doesn’t want to be with _us_.” His voice cracked on the last word and he took a few loud, shaky breaths. He was standing near the door, staring at the floor. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides and when he spoke, his voice grew louder and louder. “He doesn’t care about you or me or everything we’ve worked towards. We don’t know if he’ll remember and even if he does, what if he’s not the same person he was? He’s going to leave us anyway and **it’s all my fault!** ”

Anger and yelling gave way into tears and his muscles relaxed for a moment before he brought a hand to his eye as his other shoulder shook. His other hand was curled into a fist again, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hand with such a force it threatened to break the skin.

_He should have been more outspoken about him not going._

His breathing was erratic now and even if it wasn’t fast, he couldn’t seem to seem to control it. His teeth bit down hard, not just on the cigarette but also on his lower lip, trying to get a grip on his emotions.

_He shouldn’t have let him go._

Everything had just piled up over time and it was too much to deal with. Red Leader crashing his robot and the massive injury. The blotched mission and the disappearance. Searching for him for days on end, not knowing if he had died in the fire and if their attempts to find him would yield anything. Knowing, deep down inside, they were more likely to find a corpse than anything else.

And then getting him back. Hope, for just a brief moment.

Only for it to be dashed against the rocks because he didn’t recognize them at all. What was the point of it all if Red Leader was gone? He wasn’t dead, no, but if he couldn’t remember anything how was he supposed to lead them at all? Everything was going to fall apart because how could the Red Army possibly exist without the Red Leader?

Sometimes he really couldn’t help but think it would have been better if they had never found him at all.

Hands wrapped around his trembling hands, pulling them away from his face before the hands moved away, instead wrapping around him. His shoulders shook as he was pulled into a tight embrace, his head resting against a soft, warm sweater. His arms grasped the front of the familiar red shirt and he surrendered into the hug, trying to breathe around his tears. A reassuring hand patted his back while a chin came to rest on top of his bowed head.

Silence fell over the infirmary, broken only by occasional, muffled sobs. It felt like an eternity until one of them finally spoke again.

“It’s not your fault,” Patryk whispered, his hands falling away from the hug. Hands lifted Paul’s head up and he looked up at Patryk, trying to focus on him. If his vision was already ruined by having only uncovered eye, it was much worse with the added tears. “We couldn’t do anything to stop him. You know how he can be when he sets his mind to something. There wasn’t anything either of us could have done. You don’t have to blame yourself.”

“I could have said something,” Paul replied hoarsely. Patryk’s hands migrated to his shoulders and slowly pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching. It was hard to stop, now that he had started. Everything was pouring out all at once and now that he had turned on the faucet, he couldn’t hope to stop it. “I shouldn’t have let him go off on his own."

It was a heavy weight on his back. Looking back and knowing where he had gone wrong. Being able to see every single place he could have possibly made a difference. Insisting he not leave. Not letting him out of his sight. Diving back into the fire as soon as he realized it was just the two of them.

“I just…"

It pressed him down, dragging him down into a pit of guilt he couldn’t seem to escape from. Everything he could have done. Everything he should have done. Each and every action that could have made a difference but he didn’t take.

_“I just wish it had been me instead.”_

“It’s okay, Paul. You don’t have to suffer through these thoughts alone. I’m here for you. I’m always going to be here for you.”

His teeth bit down harder on his lower lip as and his face was quickly overtaken by tears again. Tearing his face away from Patryk’s hands, he buried his face in the other man’s shoulder, his back shaking with each sob. His hands wrapped around him and gripped the back of Patryk’s coat, holding on tight as he cried. Words of encouragement and reassurance were whispered as Patryk’s arms wrapped around him in turn, hugging him close again.

Time passed. It was impossible to tell how long. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour. But there they stayed, long after Paul’s tears had run dry and his shaking had faded to trembles, and finally vanishing altogether.

There they stayed, arms wrapped around one another in a close embrace until Paul finally pulled away, letting his arms fall to his sides with a loud sigh. Some of the weight had been lifted from his back. He still felt wrong. He still felt guilty. But having someone to confide in made it so much better. The ability to share instead of suffering in silence, thoughts confined to his head and rattling around until he couldn’t think about anything else. Knowing he had someone there to support him. They could get through this because they were going to get through it together.

“I love you,” Paul whispered, his voice hoarse as he looked up at Patryk. So many things went unsaid but were wrapped up all the same in those three words. It was impossible to put into words what it felt like. How much Patryk meant to him. He wasn’t poetic. But they both knew they meant so much more when either of them said those words.

“I love you too.”

— —

It took a while before they finally left the infirmary, Patryk holding the supplies in one arm while the other held Paul's hand tight, making sure to walk alongside him instead of letting him fall behind. It had been emotionally draining but necessary to confront the feelings Paul had. They weren't going to easily go away, nor were they so quickly resolved. But Paul knowing he was there to support and help him even a little bit was a good start. They could work their way through this.

Together.

The short walk back to Red Leader's room was mostly in silence and Patryk took that time to silently decide after they checked up on Tord, he was going to make sure Paul took a nap as well. If Tord seemed to be in a deep sleep Patryk might join him, but otherwise he was just going to let Paul rest and take it easy for the rest of the day. He could take care of Red Leader for a while if it meant Paul could actually get some quality rest in.

Approaching the door, Patryk quietly let go of Paul's hand and turned the doorknob, pushing it open. 

But the room was empty. There was no sign of Tord anywhere. He was gone.

"Boss?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops.


	23. Paint it Black

He couldn’t remember a time since waking up where he had a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep that was not the result of either a horrible illness or medication. It was either nightmares, or an inability to fall asleep in general. It didn’t seem to matter how exhausted or sleep deprived he was, if he wasn’t delusional from a fever or drugged by some cocktail by Paul and Patryk, he just couldn’t stay asleep. More often than not, he was jostled awake in the middle of the night, his heart racing as he tried to catch his breath from the nightmares.

When he opened his eyes to a headache instead, he immediately felt relieved. 

Lifting his head off the pillow that had been placed between his face and the wooden desk, Tord squinted slightly as he rubbed the side of his head, trying to drive the headache away. It didn’t work in the slightest but honestly he wasn’t surprised. He had grown used to headaches and sleepless nights. He had grown used to a lot of things.

“Patryk?” Tord whispered, his voice hoarse. Even the small word was enough to trigger a chain reaction and within a few moments he was wheezing and coughing, one hand clapped over his mouth while the other clutched at his chest, his fingers digging into his own skin. His chest hurt with every cough, and even more when he tried to recover his lost air. Every time he tried to breathe the pain drove the air back out again, creating a vicious cycle of pain that had the coughing fit lasting for what seemed like an eternity. Why did it have to hurt so much? He was supposed to be getting better. But every time the pain killers started to wear off and their effects faded away, the pain in his chest came back stronger than ever. He couldn’t breathe normally without pain and the only way to avoid pain was to breath so shallowly he could hardly get enough air. 

But he had grown used to it.

Swallowing hard when the coughing fit finally ended, he stayed quiet for a few moments before moving his hands to grip the blanket that had been placed over his shoulders. Looking around the office again, his frown grew as a glaring fact was made aware to him. 

He was alone.

Disbelief grew but he silenced it immediately. One of them was probably just out in the hallway. They never left him alone. They were always there to check on him and make sure he was alright. To make sure he was always on time for his medications. 

To make sure he didn’t leave.

Pushing the chair away from the desk with his left arm, he slowly stood up, holding the blanket around his shoulders with a hand. He wasn’t especially cold or anything-in fact he was rather warm-but he liked the weight the blanket added and the way it brushed against the back of his neck. If he closed his eyes, he could almost fool himself into pretending it was his hoodie.

He started to walk away from the desk and towards the door to where one of the duo were no doubt waiting when his arm caught on something and a metal object clattered to the floor behind him. For a brief moment he had forgotten about the IV and his action had almost yanked the dumb thing from his arm. Frowning, he paused but turned backwards and knelt down, picking the pole up again and dragging it along with him as he walked towards the door.

He hated the IV. He hated the IV more than anything else. Well, he hated not being able to leave more than anything else, but the IV came in at a close second. He didn’t have a fear of needles to his knowledge but when he had woken up the first night after a horrible nightmare involving sharp pieces of irregular, red metal and something sticking out of his left arm, pumping bitterly cold fluid into his body, he had panicked. He hadn’t initially remembered where he was or what was going on, so naturally his first reaction was to rip the offending plastic _thing_ sticking out of his arm and bolt.

It had taken Paul and Patryk both holding him down for him for a solid ten minutes before he finally calmed down enough for them to explain where he was and that he absolutely had to keep the IV in his arm. They hadn’t bothered explaining why _of course they didn’t they kept treating him like a child_ but he had stopped trying to take the IV out of his arm after that. 

Admittedly, he did feel sort of bad about the way he kept treating the two of them. His temper was shorter and he was quick to blame them when so far, all they seemed to be doing was trying to help him. Like the others, they seemed to be people from his past, but he wasn’t sure where they fit into the mix. Edd had said they had been roommates. If Paul and Patryk were meant to be believed, how had he managed to create an entire army behind Edd’s back? Surely they would have noticed something like that? Either way, it didn’t change how bitter he was. They had taken him away from Edd and Matt by force. They dodged questions he tried to ask as if he wouldn’t notice and refused to let him leave a small room up until recently. He didn’t want to hate the two of them. At the very least, Patryk seemed very nice. But he just wanted to see his friends again. 

He wanted to go _home._

Sighing, he let his hand fall away from the IV pole to turn the doorknob, pushing it outwards before reclaiming the pole and dragging it along beside him out into the hall. Even the short walk from the desk to the door was enough to have him gasping for air and his headache to flare up again, but he squinted into the bright hallway regardless. 

“Patryk?” He asked softly, coughing a few times into his hand. 

No answer. The hallway was empty.

“Paul?” He asked, hesitating now as a cold realization nestled in the bottom of his stomach, making itself right at home amongst literally nothing else _he was so hungry why did he have to keep throwing up anything more than broth and crackers? _.__

__Nobody was there. He was alone._ _

__For a brief moment, he had no idea what to do. They were gone. Should he try to find them? They had never left him alone before and he didn’t remember anything being said about him getting wandering privileges. Maybe they had gone to get him medication since clearly his was wearing off._ _

__Oh. Oh wait a moment._ _

__This was his chance, wasn’t it? He never wanted to come here at all. This lapse in security could be his chance to escape. Excitement overtook him as he started forward again at a much brisker pace, dragging the IV pole behind him. He could find a way out. He could escape. He could go back to Edd and Matt. _And Tom_._ _

__Tom._ _

__He paused, his grip on the IV pole tightening until his knuckles turned white. Of course. He had asked the both of them where Tom had been and the question went entirely ignored. He had no idea where he was or if he was even alive. The last time he had seen him he was being dragged away, blood pouring from his head, his body limp. Even just thinking about it was enough to make his stomach flip. Closing his eyes, he frowned slightly. Tom was alive. He had to be. And he was going to find him._ _

__Frowning at the IV sticking out of his arm, he toyed with the tube briefly before reaching upwards. He wasn’t going to just go ripping the whole thing out of his arm but if he was going to do this, he couldn’t just be wandering around with a massive IV pole. It was too slow. So he instead removed the bag, letting it still hang from the pole while he wrapped the tube around his arm before slipping his arm into the blue coat he had been given, hiding the tube from sight. He needed to move and fast. There was no telling when Patryk and Paul would return and find him gone._ _

__Luckily, he had a hunch of where to go._ _

__— —_ _

__What surprised him most was the fact nobody stopped him. They didn’t even try. Instead, they just saluted like before, maintaining the awkward and stiff pose until his back was turned. They didn’t talk to him or try to stop him, they just stood in an awkward silence the entire time. After about he fifth time it happened, Tord managed to find a word to describe the action. Unnerving._ _

__Still, at least it meant he was able to move fairly unhindered towards the area that had been deliberately avoided on their tour. Not a good place to go indeed. Tom hadn’t been anywhere else so his best place to go was obvious the place he hadn’t been to. There was still the matter of the guards outside the heavy doors._ _

__Or maybe there wasn’t since as soon as he walked closer they too snapped into the awkward salute and opened the door for him to walk inside._ _

__Huh._ _

__Stepping inside the previously closed off hallway, he glanced back as the metal door creaked closed behind him, leaving him cut off from the rest of the base. There weren’t any guards inside the hallway, unlike outside. Looking back down the hallway, he frowned, cautiously slipping forward, trying to be as quiet as he possible could. The hallway was lined with doors made of iron bars. But every single cell was empty, not really giving him a reason to be quiet. Tom wasn’t anywhere in sight. Nobody was. But why were their guards? What was the point of guarding a completely empty hallway? Why had Patryk gone out of his way to avoid this area if it was completely empty?_ _

__Lifting a hand to his head, he rubbed his forehead, continuing down what seems like a never ending hallway. But finally he reached the end, coming face to face with another metal door that had been painted with a red symbol he didn’t recognize at all. There was no lock on the door either so he reached out, grasping the doorknob and pushing against the door. It didn’t immediately budge and he was forced to lean against the door, shoving against it a few times until his efforts gave up and the door creaked open slightly._ _

__Light was cast into the room, bringing only a little bit of light into the otherwise completely pitch black room. The room was surprisingly large but devoid of any kind of furniture or items. For a moment, he actually thought it was completely empty, until in the far corner in the darkness, something moved._ _

__Pushing the heavy door open more to fill the room with more light, he frowned slightly, watching as the figure against the far wall cringed away from the light. It was covered in grime and dirt and blood, but the original blue color of the hoodie he was wearing was unmistakable._ _

__“Tom?” Tord asked, relief quickly building. He was alive. He knew it all along. And thankfully he had found him so quickly as well. There was a good chance Paul and Patryk hadn’t noticed he left yet. They could still get out of this before the two of them noticed anything was wrong. “Are you okay?” He quickly stepped forward, pushing away from the door and approaching the man sitting on the floor. He wasn’t moving. He had flinched away from the light when the door had first open so he was alive at least. Why wasn’t he responding? “What’s wrong?”_ _

__He took another step forward, reaching out a hand towards Tom. Was he sick? He could see a lot of bruises on him, now that he was closer. Sickly yellow and purple discolorations on his neck and hands and shallow cuts on his hands. What were those from? He didn’t remember Tom having any bruises before. However, as soon as he was in range, the figure on the floor abruptly sprang forward. A hand wrapped around his foot and with a painful yank he was jerked off his feet. Air rushed passed his ears for a brief moment and he had no time to react before his head smacked into the floor and the air was driven from his lungs. Laying stunned on the ground, he wheezed loudly, trying to catch his breath as the hold on his ankle grew more and more painful, finger digging into bruises that had yet to fade. Chains rattled loudly as he was dragged across the ground, yanked by his ankle until he was staring upwards, dazed and confused at the angry black eyes staring down at him._ _

__“Tom?” He whispered hoarsely, barely able to get the word out. His head was still reeling from the blow it had taken and with the world spinning above him, it was hard to actually focus on the face leering above him._ _

__“I’m not falling for this again,” Tom snapped, his voice low as he glanced towards the open door. After a moment he looked down at Tord again, his grip on his ankle vanishing only so he could grab him by the coat and drag him even closer. With every action he took chains rattled loudly and through his dizziness, Tord managed to make out the heavy metal shackles wrapped around both of his wrists and chains that led back to the wall and looped through a large ring, preventing him from moving very far from the wall. “It’s not going to work this time.”_ _

__“I….What?” Tord asked, his eyes moving from the chains to Tom’s face again. Tom shifted slightly before managing to maneuver enough to plant a knee against his chest, driving it straight into his ribs. Tord’s wheezing quickly turned into coughing as he fought to breathe, trying to push Tom off his chest. “Tom I can’t breathe,” He managed to choke out, barely managing to speak. What was going on? What had he done wrong?_ _

__“You can’t lie to me again,” Tom whispered, driving his knee deeper into Tord’s ribcage, leaning his weight forward as best he could. It was just like the first time they had met. He could already feel his head spinning as tears came to his eyes. He couldn’t even muster up the air to protest that he was trying to get them out. “I can’t believe I thought for even a second you were telling the truth. I mean, really? Amnesia? I don’t know what was more stupid, your story or the fact I actually believed you.” He was quiet for a few moments before his hand moved away from Tord’s blue coat, instead wrapping around his right arm and squeezing hard. Tord choked back tears, struggling to breathe as he jerked underneath Tom, trying to escape. After a moment of consideration, Tom’s other hand moved to Tord’s throat, his fingers digging into his skin. “I’m not going to give you the opportunity to fool us again,” Tom muttered as he started to squeeze._ _

__“I hate you,” Tom muttered and Tord could already feel his vision rapidly fading. Something splattered against his cheek and he blinked, squinting up at Tom. The room was poorly lit and his vision rapidly fading, but it almost looked like he was crying. “You should just die,” he added softly._ _

___No._ _ _

__Jerking his arm upwards abruptly, Tord slammed his fist into Tom’s nose. The hands around his throat and right arm abruptly let go as Tom swore loudly, clasping his hands over his nose. Sucking in a harsh breath and hardly minding the pain in his chest it caused, Tord jerked backwards, trying to scramble away from Tom._ _

__“I’m trying to help you,” Tord wheezed, barely able to talk now. Apparently that was the worst thing he could have said as a hand quickly flew out, grabbing him by the ankle and dragging him right back over to Tom. Instead of trying to grab his throat again, however, one hand caught his left and, before he could react, the other slammed into his face, knocking his head back down to the ground with a crack. Dazed once more, Tord stared up at Tom in mute shock as he lifted his fist again, ready to strike him again._ _

__“YOU DESERVE THIS!”_ _

__He flinched away as the fist came crashing down again, but never struck. After a second he opened his eyes to find Paul standing over him, his hand grasping Tom’s arm to prevent him from delivering the blow. As he gasped for air, Tord was abruptly pulled out from under Tom and dragged a short distance away until he was out of reach. Looking up, Tord wheezed as he stared up at the familiar face looking down at him with obvious concern. Patryk._ _

__He didn’t say anything, but instead silently helped Tord to his feet and ushered him quickly out of the room. He could hear swearing from inside the room but a few seconds later Paul emerged and yanked the door closed behind him, looking absolutely furious. For a moment his gaze rounded on Tord and he visibly shrank, grasping onto Patryk’s coat instinctively for security. But after a moment his burning gaze turned away and the two quietly escorted him away from the dark cell at the end of the prison block and back into more familiar territory. Back to the white room._ _

__For once, Tord found himself relieved by the bright lights and pristine, white walls. Letting one hand fall away from Patryk’s coat, he lifted a hand to gently touch his eye where Tom had punched him._ _

__Tom had actually hit him._ _

__He had never hit him before._ _

__It hurt._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I found Tom


	24. On Wednesdays We Wear Red

The lights seemed a lot brighter after he was brought out of the dark room. No surprise there, really. The room he had found Tom in was incredibly dark so it only made sense that returning to the hash, white lights of the infirmary would be somewhat disorienting.

He could still feel his heart racing in his chest. It hadn’t stopped beating uncontrollably since he had been attacked and even though there wasn’t a threat anymore, it refused to calm down so easily. Each ragged breath only brought more discomfort as his bruised neck ached with each inhale, and the pain only seemed to grow over time as reality slowly sank it. 

Tom had tried to kill him.

Hands-he wasn’t sure whose at this point it since his eyes were focused on his bare feet-guided him towards the bed and helped him to sit. He missed his shoes. The tiled floor felt so cold and while he had grown numb to it after a while, he was starting to grow more aware of it again. At the very least maybe he could do with some socks. 

A thick, blue blanket settled down over his shoulders and Tord finally looked up, making eye contact with Patryk. That look of concern he had held before was barely masked by an awkward attempt at a comforting smile. Like he was trying to hide the fact he was worried for Tord’s benefit. A slight frown formed on Tord’s face as he quickly looked away again, his eyes seeking out Paul where he was fumbling with the sink nearby, trying to adjust the water temperature as he washed red off of his knuckles. 

_Blood._

His eyes snapped down to his feet again, trying not to think about it, but failing all the same. He had been trying to save him, right? That was sort of like self defense, right? That had to be justified. Then again, he couldn’t really remember if Paul had hit Tom right off the bat. Everything had been sort of fuzzy. His thoughts were still scattered, after all. He nodded slightly to himself, trying to reinforce the thought that yes, Paul had hit Tom to protect him and that was where the blood had come from. Sure. That… that had to be it.

“You shouldn’t have gone off like that,” Patryk said, breaking the silence looming over the room with a small shake of his head, taking Tord’s hand by the wrist and gently lifting it up so he could unwrap the tube dangling off his arm. There was a slight pause before he continued, sounding almost sad. “What if we didn’t find you? You could have _died_ , Tord.” He could feel Patryk’s eyes on him but he refused to look up, instead keeping his chin down and his eyes trained on his numb toes. Silence again, this time longer than the first. He heard Patryk sigh before the hands on his arm pulled away, leaving him sitting alone on the edge of the bed. Patryk’s neat, brown boots shifted out of his view as he walked away from the bed, only to return moments, wheeling a familiar stand along with him. Oh, lovely. He looked up again, his own expression turned sour as he finally met Patryk’s gaze again.

“Oh, no need to be like that,” Patryk replied as he wheeled the pole closer with one hand, holding a fresh IV bag filled with a clear liquid in the other. He carefully let the bag hang off one of the hooks on the pole, making sure it was secure before picking up the tube attached to Tord’s arm in his other hand. He didn’t seem all that bothered by the look he was being given, and continued to work on setting up the IV pole. “It’s just an IV. I know you didn’t like it before but you need it.”

“Of course the one thing to stay behind would be Boss’s horrible reaction towards any proper medical care,” Paul chimed in bitterly, walking towards the two of them as he dried his hands off with a paper towel. Tossing the used napkin into a nearby trashcan, he pulled open a nearby fridge and rummaged around briefly inside before pulling out a blue ice pack. Wrapping the frozen ice pack in a thin, clean towel, he walked over to the bed and held it out as Patryk continued to work on setting up the IV again. Glancing down at Paul’s hand, Tord frowned but accepted the ice pack, taking it with his free hand and holding it for a moment before looking up at Paul silently, head slowly tilting slightly to the side to question exactly why he was being handed an ice pack. “It’s for your eye,” Paul replied, his thick eyebrows drawing together and his teeth clenching just a bit tighter around the cigarette in his mouth. “If you get some ice on it now it might help with the bruising. Either way, it’ll help it not hurt as much later on. Black eyes can seriously hurt, especially when they swell up.” 

Ah. 

Right. 

The punch. 

Lifting the icepack carefully, he closed his eye, going through each action slowly to try to avoid possibly triggering more pain. Pressing the icepack just barely against his face, he flinched at how cold it was, even through the thin towel. His shoulders rose up slightly but he worked through the discomfort, trying to press the ice pack more firmly against his eye so it would actually help. At least his attempts to do so helped distract him from Patryk fiddling around with the IV. Although, it did nothing to help the surge of cold that came flooding through his arm starting from his elbow. Flinching slightly, he dropped the ice pack, his fingers immediately seeking out the plastic _thing_ sticking out of his arm so he could yank it out. He didn’t care about needing it he hated it he wanted it out. His fingers only barely brushed over the IV tubing to yank the whole thing out of his arm before two sets of hands grabbed him. His heart thumped loudly in his chest and he wheezed as Paul pulled his hand away from the IV while Patryk forced the arm that was connected to the IV in the other direction, keeping him from pulling the IV out or trying to struggle with Paul.

“No, Tord,” Patryk started to say, even as he pulled against the hands holding him down, trying to dislodge them. He needed it out _please it hurt._

He jerked to the side, trying to free his arms. 

“Boss, you need to stop!” Paul yelled _too loud_ and he jerked backwards, his arm slipping away for just a moment before Paul manage to fix his grasp on Tord’s arm, holding him by the wrist, his fingers digging into bruises only recently formed. _Please no not again_.

His throat closed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. Desperation kicked in and he choked back a sob, his shoulders jerking as he tried with renewed distress to remove the IV. He needed it out. It was hurting him why couldn’t they see it was hurting him?

An unspoken exchange was made between the two before they began to push him down onto the bed. There was little he could do to fight against the both of them, especially as he was now, and it wasn’t long before he was lying on the bed, each one of them holding down a shoulder. The struggle carried on only a short while longer before he was left gasping and wheezing for air, the battle to take out the IV lost, leaving him only exhausted for his efforts. 

“You’re okay,” Patryk whispered softly, barely loud enough for him to hear, using his thumb to gently rub the back of Tord’s hand while he him down. “Shhh. It’s alright, just breathe. Shhh.” The soothing voice did little to help him breathe or stop his shaking body. But it was there nonetheless, and the repeated words slowly took root in his head.

He was okay.

_Breathe._

He was okay.

_Breathe._

Closing his eyes, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat and slow his breathing down enough to recover. It was okay. There were no hands around his throat now. They weren’t holding him down to hurt him. It was okay. He was okay. Shhh… Shhh…

The whispering continued on until long after he had stopped struggling to free his arms and the tears staining down his cheeks had dried. Blinking a few times, his vision gradually shifted from the bright ceiling lights to focus on the two concerned faces looking down at him. Pain has set in more firmly at this point and the icy feeling in his arm paled in comparison to the itching of his throat and the ache of his eye. His head pounded horribly and he closed his eyes, leaving himself in the darkness for a moment, though it did little to help ease the headache. 

“Are you okay?” Paul asked, and just speaking normally was enough to make his head pound harder. _Too loud._

“Hurts,” he mumbled in response, his voice coming out hoarse and raspy and quiet. It hurt to even just whisper one singular word. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and dared to open his eyes again, looking up at those concerned faces again. 

“Your pain medication wore off a while ago,” Patryk replied gently, clasping his hand with both of his hands now. Holding him down was no longer necessary. He wasn’t going anywhere, not even if he wanted to. “There’s more mixed into the IV. It’ll kick in soon. Just don’t try to take it out again.”

Giving the faintest nod in response, he rolled his head to one side, letting his uninjured left cheek rest against the pillow. His bruised right eye would fit right in with the preexisting injuries to that side of his face. One thing to be thankful for, at least. 

“Do you want the ice pack?” Paul asked, failing to have even a scrap of the tact that Patryk did. He didn’t have any bedside manner but at least he was efficient. Another small nod and Paul quickly picked the icepack up from where it had fallen to the floor when Tord dropped it. Taking a new, clean towel off the table, he wrapped the blue icepack in the fresh cloth before gently letting it lay over Tord’s eye. After a moment, he nodded before moving away from the bed to presumably gather more first aid materials, leaving Patryk behind to continue to quietly rub the back of Tord’s left hand in an attempt to continue to soothe him. Silence fell over the room again, leaving Tord to his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely making it past his lips. But in the quiet room, it was loud enough. 

“It’s fine,” Paul replied, keeping his eyes on his work as he gathered up bandages and different bottles. “You never reacted well to first aid. We’re used to it.”

“It was worse before,” Patryk added with a knowing nod. “You’d overwork yourself too or reopen your injuries trying to walk around too early, especially after the explosion. At least now you listen a little bit more.” 

It was weird hearing about himself. Who he used to be from someone else. Edd didn’t really elaborate on much about who he had been or what he had done. There were little things dragged out over time. Small details like what his favorite movie had been. Paul and Patryk seemed to be completely different. They kept telling him about who he used to be, or referred to him by old titles. They didn’t want him. They wanted who he used to be.

“I don’t remember,” he rasped, watching Paul as he made his way back over and gently laid another ice pack against Tord’s neck where Tom’s fingers had left nasty, large bruises, then another ice pack on the other side. Paul didn’t respond directly, only nodding as he moved on to a different subject.

“You should sleep,” Paul replied. "You’ll feel much better after you wake up.” 

He _was_ tired and even just mentioning the fact he needed rest was enough to make his eyes heavy. Maybe it was the medication setting in. Maybe it was exhaustion from what had happened. It didn’t matter for he soon found himself drifting off to sleep as Paul continued to diligently tend to his injuries. 

— — — — 

The lights in the white room had dimmed when he woke up with a start, heart pounding in his chest and body covered in sweat. There weren’t any windows so the lack of light wasn’t indicative of any kind of time change, and the nightmare could have woken him up any number of hours later. Slowly lifting himself up onto his elbows, he winced as the action caused the back of his head to throb in a horrible headache. At least the light wasn’t as bright anymore. The bulbs overhead were only barely on. Still, it was enough to see Paul fast asleep on a nearby chair, one leg crossed over the other and his head resting on one shoulder. His arms were crossed over his chest and overall, Tord found himself impressed by the fact he was able to fall asleep in such a position in the first place. 

The door creaked open and Tord turned his head, watching Patryk poke his head inside the room, pausing when his own eyes met Tord’s. Quietly sliding into the room, he closed the door behind him and silently walked across the room, making his way to the bedside. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Patryk asked in a hushed whisper, his hands hidden behind his back. His gaze briefly focused on the sleeping figure of Paul and it was immediately apparent he was doing his best not to disturb the sleeping man. “You’ve been asleep for a while.” 

“Throat hurts,” Tord replied hoarsely, his discomfort obvious as he avoided speaking any more than he had to. Patryk nodded, glancing briefly at the IV bag before fidgeting uncomfortably for a moment.

“I…I thought you might be cold so I brought you something.” From behind his pack he pulled out what he had been hiding since entering the room, holding out the gift. Tord’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes widening as he was greeted by a familiar sight. 

Really?

Could it be?

Reaching out a hand, he ran the tips of his fingers across the red fabric before gingerly grasping at the neatly folded material, as if afraid it would vanish if he grasped it too tightly or pulled it away too suddenly. Glancing up at Patryk, he slowly took the red sweatshirt from him, letting it unfold so he could look it over again. The gift that Edd had given. He hadn’t known if he would ever see it again after they took it from him. But here it was again in his arms. Pulling it close to his chest, he buried his face in the soft fabric, no longer able to contain himself as he tears formed at the edges of his eyes.

“Thank you,” He rasped faintly, bringing his knees up to his chest so he was hugging the red sweatshirt as close as he could. It hurt to speak but he didn’t seem to care any more in his attempts to express his gratitude. “Thank you,” He repeated, not bothering to actually pull on the sweatshirt but instead content to just hold it close to him, like a blanket.

“Shhh,” Patryk replied softly but couldn’t help but smile. “Just be careful. We all care about you, Tord. You never stop worrying us.” He reached out and gently patted the top of Tord’s head before turning around and leaving just as quietly as he had entered. Settling back down onto the bed, Tord gradually drifted back to sleep, this time holding the sweatshirt close to him as he slept.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, there were no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming but I'm pretty pleased with this chapter. I can't guarantee any updating schedule at this point, but I'll try to get another chapter up as quickly as I can.
> 
> **3**


	25. Chit Chat with Pat

Morning came. Or, at the very least, someone woke him up from yet another terrifying dream. He wasn’t entirely sure of the time since the white room had no windows or clocks, and he only could vaguely tell the time based on when someone decided to turn on the lights- _Had they always been so bright?_ \- and wake him up, or turn off the lights and tell him to go to sleep. He wasn’t sure what time schedule they were trying to keep him on anymore, or how long he had even been in there. Maybe he could ask Patryk. He certainly seemed to helpful, especially after last night. 

His hands dug deeper into the fabric of the red sweatshirt, pulling it closer to his face. It smelled like detergent, just like the blue coat they had given him the day before. Had it really only been a day? It felt like so much longer. He lifted a hand to gently touch the cheek just below his eye, tracing the outline of bruised skin that had swelled up while he slept, hissing slightly when even the smallest contact produced a sharp pain. He couldn’t see it without a mirror but if it hurt this much from barely even touching it, it had to be bad. 

Just one more injury to add to the list. 

“Hey.”

The sudden voice startled him out of his own thoughts and he looked up sharply, making eye contact with Paul’s one visible eye. Oh. OH. His hands gripped the sweatshirt tighter and he pulled it in closer, practically curling his entire body around it. He just got it back, he wasn’t going to give it up so easily now. He didn’t care what stupid response they gave him for why he couldn’t hold onto it. It was one of the few things he actually owned, and so much more than that at the same time. 

“I’m not trying to take your hoodie,” Paul huffed after a moment and, to his credit, managed to roll his eyes despite only having one. “Icepack,” He added, holding a ziplock bag filled with water and ice out to him. The whole thing was wrapped rather haphazardly in a layer of paper towels, but managed to function exactly as it needed to nonetheless. “For your eye. It looks like shit.”

“…Thanks,” Tord replied after an awkward pause, reluctantly letting go of the sweatshirt with one hand to take the icepack. Even just letting it rest against his eye was too painful, so he held it with one hand, trying to occasionally just gently pat the bruised skin. It probably wasn’t effective, sure, but at least it didn’t hurt anymore than it had to. Letting his head rest back down again, he held the sweatshirt loosely in one arm while the other gently and occasionally patted his injured eye with the icepack. A heavy silence fell over the room and Tord felt himself staring quietly up at the ceiling, counting the number of tiles he could see as he had done so many times before. There wasn’t that much else he could do in the barren, white room after all. 

In the corner of his eye he noticed Paul shift, and then step aside, leaving his field of vision. Turning his head, he watched the man walk to the side of the room and gather up some supplies from the cabinets lining the far wall. When he saw him remove a roll of clean bandages, he closed his eye with a small nod, trying to encourage his newly emerging headache to fade back down. Right. His arm. It apparently wouldn’t take too long to fall back into the normal routine once more. 

Bandage his arm.

Change the IV.

Sleep.

Arm.

IV.

Sleep.

Like nothing had ever happened at all.

 

———— 

 

“You don’t have to push yourself,” Patryk insisted, holding the IV pole steady as Tord leaned against it, taking harsh, irregular gasps of air. “We can walk slower if you need us to. Or take a break.” 

“I’m fine,” Tord replied, adjusting his grip on the pole slightly while the other hand pressed against his ribs. His breathing quickly degraded into harsh coughs, however, and his fingers clenched around the pole until his knuckles turned white. It had been so long and he still couldn’t even walk around properly without wheezing. It felt like a heavy brick was resting on his chest, driving the air out of his lungs before he could even attempt to catch his breath. And any actual attempt to do so was quickly turned into a nasty coughing fit. Even if they let him walk around in the hallways-monitored, of course-it didn’t do him much good if he could barely go anywhere.

They still changed the bandages on his arms constantly, even if it wasn’t as frequent. The skin there was still tender, even if it didn’t bleed so much now. It still hurt, especially when they turned out the lights to let him sleep. Sometimes amongst nightmares he would wake up, his arm shaking from horrible, burning phantom pains. He’d spend hours lying there, cradling his own arm and sobbing quietly in the dark. He doubted the pain would ever really go away. 

“Don’t lie, you sound like crap,” Paul replied, grabbing ahold of the back of his red sweatshirt to make sure he didn’t fall over. He managed to avoid being too rough, however. At least they all had some understanding about how important the sweatshirt was to him. 

“Your bedside manner is crap,” Tord managed to wheeze before moving his hand from his chest to his head, rubbing his fingers through his air, trying to ease the headache splitting his head just above his eye. Well, at least he managed to stop coughing. That was a positive, right?

“Wow, great comeback,” Paul replied with a roll of his eyes and a tone that clearly indicated what he really thought. Great comeback indeed. “Now how about you sit down before you choke on air again.” While joking, there was an underlying concern that was very obvious to pick up on. 

“All jokes aside, I would feel a lot better if you rested,” Patryk piped up, giving Tord a concerned look as he slowly hold of the hand grasping the IV pole and gently pried it away until he was holding Tord’s hand in his. Tord glanced up at his face, meeting his honestly concerned face and finding it difficult not to immediately give in to those wide, puppy dog eyes. “Just for a moment?"

Oh, he was _good_.

“…Fine,” Tord relented after only a few seconds, letting both of them lead him out of the hallway and into an office. ‘His’ office. The last time he had been in here, they had left him alone long enough for him to attempt to run away. It still didn’t seem like a bad idea, but he was still torn. He didn’t want to go see Tom again, he was positive about that. It had ended badly enough the first time. But just leaving him there seemed bad. At the very least maybe he could try convincing Paul and Patryk to let Tom go home? He just…he just didn’t want to face him again. He couldn’t, and he doubted Tom wanted to see him again either. His last attempt to talk to him hadn’t gone over so well and it likely wasn’t to go over any better. 

Letting himself be guided to the chair, he sat dow with a sigh, sinking into the soft cushions and leaning back, trying to catch his breath. Even the small walk from the hallway to the desk was enough to make him feel winded again and the headache flare up with renewed intensity. The office was so much brighter than the hallway. Closing his eyes, he gingerly touched the healing bruised area above his eye where the headache seemed so much worse. Maybe it was from the bruising. They always seemed to be in the same area around where his eye had been hit, and he never got any before he had been hit. 

“Can you…Could you turn off the lights?” Tord asked softly, letting the question hang in the air as he kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t see either of the two respond, but he certainly heard the soft footsteps moving away from him and the soft click of a light switch being flicked off. “Thank you,” He mumbled, blinking several times as he opened his eyes again. Only the light from the hallway illuminated the room now, causing most of the room to be dark. Much better. Now if his headache would just go away, he would be fantastic.

“This almost feels nostalgic,” Paul remarked from where he was standing on one side of the desk, gazing around the office. “You used to hardly ever leave this place.” His hands were folded behind his back as he looked around the interior of the dimly-lit room. “Most of the time you just slept here on top of all of your paperwork.” 

“I don’t remember,” Tord whispered with a small shake of his head, a frown quickly settling on his face. He didn’t want to remember. Both of them they kept pushing him, trying to get him to remember. But they never considered what he wanted, did they? He just wanted to go back to Edd and Matt. He wanted to see his friends again. He didn’t want to know what awful mistakes they had alluded to and whoever he had been before. He looked down at his lap, staring at his own hands. One mangled and one not. “I’m not Red Leader."

“I know,” Paul sighed, leaning against the desk with a frown, his teeth digging into the cigarette in his mouth. He was quiet for a few moments before scowling, staring off into the distance. “If only we could find that stupid Red Book. It’s our best lead but we can’t even find it.” Ah, right. That journal they had mentioned that he always wrote in. Reading a first-hand experience of his life probably was a great way to recover his memories, if there was one. But even if they found it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to actually read it. Sure there was curiosity but did he really want to go back to who he was? 

“All we can do is keep looking,” Patryk replied, his hand reassuringly patting Tord’s shoulder. “Besides, what really matters is making sure you’re feeling better. Speaking of which…” He trailed off as he turned his gaze to look at Paul with a smile. “Can you go get a new IV bag? Please?” He barely even had to bat his eyelashes before Paul sighed and walked towards the door, quickly disappearing down the hallway. Raising one eyebrow, Tord turned to look at Patryk with a newfound respect. 

“You’re good at that.”

“I try,” Patryk replied with a smile before sitting down on the edge of the desk. His smile quickly faded away into a more serious note as he looked down at Tord, his head tilted just slightly to one side. “Are you feeling okay? You seem… off.” 

“Just headaches,” Tord replied with a frown, his hand reaching up to ghost across his cheek. Still healing. Still hurt. He was quiet for a moment before looking away, not wanting to make eye contact with Patryk. He was nice. He was so nice. Paul was too, even for all his rough exterior. It would have been so much easier to hate them if they weren’t. He wanted to have an unconditional hatred for them but they cared about him. They wanted to help him, even if it was misguided. Patryk had given him back his hoodie just to make him feel better. He didn’t have to do that. They didn’t have to be so nice. And it made it all that much harder to be angry with them. He didn’t know the story. He didn’t know even a quarter of the story. But he couldn’t deny the fact he missed Edd and Matt so dearly. He worried about them every day. Were they worried? Were they looking for him? Or had they given up the search for him and Tom after so long? “I want to go home,” He finally admitted, his voice barely even a hoarse whisper. His throat still felt sore at times, even if the finger-shaped bruises around his neck were barely visible anymore. “I want to see my friends again.” 

The silence was deafening but he refused to look back at Patryk, instead keeping his eyes focused on the far corner of the room. He had said it. It was out there, that he still wanted to leave. That he didn’t, and never would, consider this place his home or even a place where he belonged. 

“I know,” Patryk replied softly. “We all know you aren’t the same person as you were before and I know you don’t remember. But we really are trying to help you. If you went back to your friends, they wouldn't be able to properly look after your injuries. I know it’s a lot to ask but you just need to trust us. We’re only trying to do what’s best for you. It might not feel like it now but you are home. You've been here all along.” He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Tord's shoulder, offering up a warm smile. "Please, Tord. Just trust us."

Glancing down at his bandaged arm, Tord closed his eyes, trying to dismiss the pounding in his head. He did have a point. Matt and Edd didn't have the resources to really patch him up, and he was already feeling better since he had come here.

Well, he had been before Tom had punched him in the face. 

"Besides, what if the police found you? We can protect you here, but if they found you with your friends, all you would do is get them arrested too." 

Oh. He had never really thought about that. Sure, he had known he was a criminal of some kind since first finding that wanted poster, but he never realized that if the police found him with his friends he'd get them in trouble too. Maybe it would be better to stay away from his friends. It would keep them safer that way.

“I…I guess you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even a seed of doubt is enough to grow a tree.
> 
> Link to Tom's Oneshot:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/9150265 
> 
> **2**


	26. Tord's Little Red Book

“Hey Patryk?”

“Hmm?” Patryk hummed in response, his eyes never moving away from his task as he hooked the new IV bag Paul brought in. Apparently it had been long enough that they were thinking about taking him off fluids. Finally. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with a tube sticking out of his arm.

Paul had taken one step inside the room with the new IV bag before reading the terse silence and deciding that the troops really needed to be checked on, and left giving exactly that excuse. That left just Patryk and him alone again. Things were already tense and awkward but, honestly, he felt like Patryk was more approachable than Paul. Maybe it was finally time to ask a question he had been thinking about for a while. Something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since he first realized he had a life before all of this. Things he couldn’t remember but everyone else seemed to hold him accountable for in different ways. Some more than others.

“What was I like before?” He saw Patryk fumble the bag, nearly dropping it on the floor but managing to catch one corner. He looked over sharply at Tord, but Tord quickly looked down at his lap as the tension grew in leaps and bounds.

“What?” 

“I mean,” Tord continued, stumbling over his words as he tried to find the right things to say, “Like before the…um…accident? What did I act like?” The words were just pouring out of his mouth now. The questions he wanted to ask but was too afraid to before. He didn’t want to know. He ignored the bits and pieces, mostly. But it was becoming harder and harder to push it out of his mind. Especially considering what happened in that cell. “Because everyone seems to be saying all these things about me except it doesn’t sound like _me_ at all. But I’m only like this now because I lost my memories and from what it sounds like I’m not supposed to be-“

“Tord,” Patryk cut him off from his spiraling ramble, placing a hand on his left shoulder and giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze that sent Tord into a choked silence. “It’s true that you’re a lot different than you were before. And at first, Paul and I had trouble dealing with that. But it’s not my place, or anyone else’s place to tell you what you should be like.”

“But what if I’m not supposed to be like this,” Tord replied as she shrugged off the hand, refusing to allow the question to be ignored or subverted. He looked back up, meeting Patryk’s gaze. “I need to know.”

“I mean…you were...kind of a dick,” Patryk admitted, pulling his hand away and scratching the back of his head. “A charismatic dick, sure, but a pretty huge asshole all the same. You didn’t trust anyone, not even us. I don’t know if you had friends since you were so absorbed in your work all the time. You were self destructive too. You’d spend days on end cooped up in here with the door locked, only sleeping when you finally passed out from exhaustion and only eating when we nearly forced the door down.” He sighed, giving Tord a sympathetic look. “You worried us. You still do. I guess that hasn’t changed all that much.”

Tord was silent, trying to shrug off the pity he could feel radiating off of Patryk. He didn’t want that. Well, he didn’t really know what he wanted anymore. The closest thing, he could figure, was just trying to find some answers but nobody seemed to give them anymore. They hadn’t told him about Tom, after all. But was that just some kind of mercy? They knew Tom had hurt him before. Maybe they were just trying to save him from what they knew would happen again. And again. And again. His teeth clicked together softly as Patryk continued.

“I don’t have all the answers. I can’t tell you if it would be better if you tried to go back to how you were before, or if you stayed how you are right now. But I suppose that doesn’t really matter. We don’t know how we would even start to bring back your memories or if that would change you to how you were before. But we just want to keep you safe. That’s all we ever wanted.”

“Can I have some time alone?” Tord asked softly, shifting his gaze past Patryk and towards the wall behind him. He just needed some space to think. He rarely got any alone time and after the encounter with Tom they were skittish to say the least. But there was only one door and no windows.

“Promise you won’t run away again?” Patryk asked in turn.

“Where would I go?” Tord whispered. That was apparently enough to satisfy Patryk, as he quietly stood up and walked towards the door. On the way, he turned on a small lamp in the corner that provided the room with some small light that didn’t hurt his eyes as much as the overhead lights, but also wouldn’t plunge the entire room into darkness when left. He twisted the doorknob and opened the door, only pausing with one foot already in the hallway before turning back around to face Tord. 

“I’ll be right out in the hallway but…I’ve been meaning to give you this for a while.” He stepped back inside the room and placed a small, black object on the desk in front of Tord. _A cell phone_. “You probably don’t remember any numbers but I put in Paul’s and mine. But it’s also got games and you can look things up online if you want.” Leaving the gift on the desk he turned around and quickly left, closing the door with a soft click behind him. A few minutes passed before Tord reached out and gently picked up the cell phone. He clicked the button on the front of the screen but as soon as the phone turned on the screen illuminated and cast a bright light on his face. Flinching away as his head pounded, he quickly turned the phone over and placed it back down on the desk in favor of rubbing his eyes. 

He should probably tell someone about the headaches. Or at least how bad they actually were. They seemed weird. Well, weird in comparison. He still couldn’t breathe right even after all this time and his right arm was practically useless at this point and plagued by phantom pains, but those were all…normal? That wasn’t the right word. He was just used to them, that was all. But the headaches were newer and he didn’t know how to handle them as well.

Sighing softly, he leaned back into the chair, pulling his legs up close to his chest and closing his eyes, trying to lose himself in the quiet dark. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t hate the two of them. He could try to build walls between them, but it wouldn’t change the fact that they cared about him. All the while, Edd and Matt seemed to be drifting away. How long had it been since he had seen them? What had they done after he was taken away? Did they try to find him?

Or what if they were happy to see him gone? 

_They did hurt you_.

Who could he trust?

He remained still for a while. He didn’t know how long. But finally he opened his eyes and tilted his head back down, looking towards the far wall. From where he was sitting, he could see a picture frame hanging on the far wall, containing an oddly familiar image. Slowly climbing to his feet, he grasped the IV stand, dragging it along the floor as he approached the strange, hanging image.

 

It was him. It was him from before.

He was wearing a blue overcoat, much like the ones Paul and Patryk wore on a regular basis. A frown was plastered across his unscarred face, and he was holding some kind of a gun over his shoulder. In the background, he could just barely make out Paul’s face, as if the man hadn’t realized right away a picture was being taken and hadn’t been able to duck out of the way in time. 

But what really caught his attention was the bold, gray letters plastered across the top of the image.

The picture was so familiar because it was his wanted poster. He’d seen it before, after he had stumbled into the town near Edd’s apartment. He had torn it off the building it had been taped to and held onto it while he had been sitting alone in the alleyway for days on end, trying to figure out what he had done to get his name in black and white and a rather large sum of numbers as a reward. 

And now here he was, sitting in the middle of a base he had constructed, an army he had assembled and plans to, apparently, take over the world.

That time, like his time with Edd, seemed so far away now. 

Unconsciously reaching out, his fingers brushed over the glass frame, leaving ugly, white smudges behind, obscuring part of own face behind fingerprints on the glass. How strange. Framing a picture of yourself was one thing but a wanted poster? It seemed a bit odd to him but then again what did he know? Not much, apparently.

Sighing slightly, he pulled his sleeve up and began to wipe his fingerprints off the glass. But either the picture wasn’t hanging quite right on the wall or he had bumped it accidentally, as the poster suddenly fell off the wall, clattering to the floor with a loud crash, almost smashing into his toes if he hadn’t instinctively recoiled. 

“Tord?” Patryk’s worried voice echoed from behind the door, followed by a concerned knock. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Tord called back, glancing briefly towards the door before looking at the fallen painting with a sigh. His own face stared back up at him as he knelt down, inching the fingers of his left hand under the frame and picking it up. It wasn’t too heavy, thankfully, but when he turned to hang it on the wall he found the space was already occupied by another picture that had been cleverly hidden behind the first. If he had been confused about why someone would hang a wanted poster of themselves, the second picture only confused him further. Setting the first frame down on his old desk, Tord walked towards the second picture hanging on the wall, dragging the IV pole with him.

Why the hell would someone hang a picture of a picture of a red button with a skull on it? Maybe at first glance people would be confused and mistake it for an actual button but what was the point of that? 

Maybe there was something else behind it. 

He reached out, his fingers brushing over the glass before gripping the side of the frame and slowly pulling it away from the wall. He didn’t know what to expect. What kind of secrets would someone hide behind two picture frames? It seemed redundant. Wouldn’t the presence of the second picture frame just make it obvious there was something behind it? What if pulling the second picture frame off the wall triggered some kind of elaborate trap? But curiosity got the better of him and he pulled the picture away, revealing a carefully-cut hole in the wall. Inside the hole, along with a weird red mark, was a lever. 

What?

Mystified by this development and not even pausing to consider possible repercussions, he reached out and grasped the lever, pulling it towards him. With a soft clunk it slipped into the new position. Then, from somewhere behind him, something clicked. It was a quiet sound and had he not been quiet he probably wouldn’t have heard it, but he couldn’t actually make out where the noise had come from except behind him. Turning around, he scanned the room briefly, walking back towards the desk. Something happened, right? What had changed? There wasn’t much in the room and he could see right off the bat nothing had happened to the walls. And it didn’t look like anything happened to the floor. Which left just looking around the desk. 

He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly looked around the desk before crouching down on his knees to peer underneath. He almost missed it before his eyes settled on something that was strange. There, hidden away in the far corner and barely noticeable thanks to the desk hiding it from the light, was a hole. A perfectly square hole in the floor, just a bit bigger than his hand. He found something. Excited now, he started to crawl towards the hole under the desk, only to stop when the IV drew taut. Frowning, he glanced down at the IV before shaking his head and pulling the plastic tube away, detaching it from the nib sticking out of his arm. Fluid began to trickle to the ground but he ignored it in favor of crawling towards the hole and peering down into it. It was hard to make out, but it looked like there was a piece of paper inside. Reaching his hand down, he grasped the edge of the paper and pulled it out of the hole. What was on the paper? He couldn’t make it out in the dark under the desk, but he was already anxious with anticipation. Maybe it was some kind of clue that would help him remember. Excitement took over and he sat up quickly, only to smash the top of his head on the underside of the desk. Swearing loudly he dropped back to the floor, crumpling the paper slightly in his hands as he nursed his aching head. 

Dragging himself back out from under the desk, he quickly pulled himself to his feet before glancing down at the piece of paper in his hand. What kind of thing would he had hidden behind two pictures and a secret trap door in the floor? It had to be important, right? He could feel his heart beating in his throat as he slowly turned the piece of paper over, staring at the words written there.

_“Get fucked.”_

Wow. 

WOW.

Okay, Patryk was absolutely right. He had been a dick. What kind of person went out of their way to set up some kind of elaborate treasure hunt with a note like that at the end? He had gotten his hopes up he might find something and instead he just got led around like an idiot. The aching pain in his head where he had hit it radiated outwards into a painful headache, and he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and tossed it aside. It bounced briefly off the picture of him that he had set to rest on the desk before falling to the floor. Irritated now, he couldn’t help but shove the picture off the desk, watching it clatter to the ground. While the frame survived the first fall, it must have landed wrong as it cracked apart as it hit the floor. Sighing, he sank to the floor, pulling his knees and hugging them close to his chest. He had gotten his hopes up for nothing. And what was he even hoping for? To lose himself in who he used to be? He didn’t want that. He just wanted to see his friends again. He wanted to see Edd and Matt and hell, even Tom. He wanted to live without his past hanging over him like a noose, waiting for the right moment to tighten around his neck. Anger quickly simmered down into frustration and he found himself rubbing his eyes with his wrist, trying to clear the tears away as they formed. When that failed he just covered his eyes with his hands, pressing his fingers against the skin just above his eyes until it hurt, trying to forget his headache and frustration with a different kind of pain. But a gentle knock at the door quickly pulled him from his thoughts.

“Tord?” Patryk called again. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

“J-just give me a minute!” Tord stammered, hurriedly wiping at his eyes to try to mask the fact he had been crying. It was stupid he shouldn’t be crying over something like this. He was overreacting. All he had done was hit his head and find a joke his past had left behind. He needed to pull himself together. Taking a few deep but shaky breaths, he gently slapped his cheeks, trying to knock some sense into himself without exaggerating his headache. 

He should probably start by cleaning up the mess he made.

Kneeling down next to the broken picture frame he frowned, trying to survey the damage. Reaching down, he pushed aside broken pieces of glass to pull the wanted poster out. The frame could be replaced. Managing to slip it free from the glass with relative ease he started to stand to put it on the desk so he could sweep the smaller pieces of wood and glass into a pile, only to pause. Hidden in the shards of glass and pieces of wood there was something else.

Something small.

Something **red**.

Tilting his head to one side, he set the wanted poster down before brushing the glass away and tugging at the small red thing hiding there. It slid out of the small, secret compartment it had been hidden in easy enough, revealing a tiny, unmarked book. It took him a moment but his eyes widened in realization and his hands began to shake, nearly dropping the book. Not just any book. 

_His_ book. 

He bit his lower lip as his fingers brushed over the cover. Maybe he’d never see them again. If he did, would they want to see him? Would they understand what had happened or just blame him like Tom had? Maybe it was just time to accept his past instead of running from it. Maybe it was time to try to be who he was supposed to be. 

He opened the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [Asil](http://yes-asil.tumblr.com/), who is a huge inspiration to me! She made this amazing fanart which inspired me to write this next chapter earlier, so you all should go check out her blog and follow her.  
>    
> [Link to the image above on her blog](http://yes-asil.tumblr.com/post/158474161647/more-minubell-forget-me-not-art-because-haha-i)
> 
>  
> 
> **1**


	27. Shot Through the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you're to blame
> 
>  
> 
> _Darling'_

“I want to speak to Tom,” Tord declared as the door opened. He was sitting on the corner of the desk, the book safely tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. Paul and Patryk didn’t need to know that he found it. Not yet. 

“Tord, are you alright?” Patryk replied, ignoring what he had said in favor of looking around the room. His eyes quickly locked onto the broken picture frame on the ground and the scattered shards of glass before he turned to Tord, worry washing over his face as he quickly walked over to him, grasping his hands and looking them over for any injury. “What happened? Where’s your IV?”

“I said, I want to speak to Tom,” Tord repeated, a slight bite creeping into his tone that caused Patryk to look up in surprise. 

“Tord?” Patryk replied, tilting his head questioningly to one side. Knocking his hands to the side, Tord frowned, shaking his head slightly.

“Never mind,” He replied, sliding off the corner of the desk with a shake of his head. “I know where the prisons are.” He stepped past Patryk, walking out of the room and down the hallway. Patryk quickly ran out of the room, following him out of the room and chasing him down the hallway until he caught up. 

“Tord, wait!” Patryk called, catching the sleeve of his left arm. Tord stopped short and, with a sigh, glanced over his shoulder at Patryk. 

“What is it?” 

“He isn’t in the prisons,” Patryk replied, frowning slightly. He shifted for a moment, his hand falling away from Tord’s sleeve. "We…I moved him. Somewhere else.” He slipped around Tord, gesturing for him to follow before walking down the hallway. That was weird. Neither Patryk or Paul had mentioned anything about moving Tom somewhere else. Then again, they had danced around the subject before that by not actually telling him where Tom was, and he hadn’t actually asked about Tom after their little chat, but it was still strange. Where had they moved him? A short walk later revealed the answer as Patryk paused outside of a door and pulled out a key card. He started to move the card towards a small panel next to the door before hesitating and turning around. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he admitted. “It’s barely been a week since he tried to kill you. You should just wait a little longer. You’ve still got a black eye from where he punched you.”

“Patryk,” Tord replied with a sigh, pinching bridge of his nose. His headache was back. Probably from hitting his head following his own stupid goose chase, but it really didn’t matter why it was back, only that his head was throbbing and he was irritated because of it. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion. I want to speak to him and I am going to speak to him, and if it makes you feel any better you can stand by the door.” Patryk frowned at his tone, looking puzzled for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, no. I’ll just wait out here. Just...be careful.” He held out the keycard and touched it against the panel. With a soft beep a light on the panel flickered green and the door slid open.

“When am I not?” Tord replied with a smile before stepping into the room. The door slid shut behind him and Tord turned his gaze into the small room. It didn’t look like a prison cell. It just looked like a small room, really. Bland and bare, sure, but a room nonetheless. But, sure enough, sitting in far corner of the room on the only bed was the person he was looking for.

_Tom_.

His throat seized up for a moment at the sight of those familiar, hollow eyes, and he coughed quietly, trying to clear the phantom lump from his throat. He had hardly made a noise but it was apparently enough as Tom’s head jerked up out of whatever thoughts he had been stuck in, and black eyes stared at him. For half a second Tord expected him to leap out of the bed and continue the assault from where they had left off, but Tom only sighed and glanced down at the floor.

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” he muttered. The lights in the room were bright, far brighter than they were in the dark, wet prison cell he had first seen him in. It was in the light that he could see clearly for the first time things had had nagged at the corner of his mind when he first visited him. 

The dirt and grime and blood on his blue hoodie, even more apparent now in the light.

The sickly yellow and purple discolorations around his neck, each bruise looking more and more hauntingly like fingers now that he could actually see them.

The shallow cuts across his hands that he had tried to imagine what they could have come from, but it was clear they were some kind of knife.

And now a harsh, black and purple bruise to match his own around his right eye that couldn’t have been caused by anything other than a fist to the face. 

“Oh my god, Tom,” Tord breathed, taking a step away from the door. His boots clicked across the floor, nearly silently, but Tom flinched at the noise all the same. Tord froze, his face twisting in confusion, then something new. Something he wasn’t used to. Something tight in his jaw and the pit of his stomach. Something that burned cold through his entire body, until his hands began to shake and he was forced to curl his fingers into tight fists and his fingernails bit into the skin of his palms just to settle the tremors. 

Anger.

That was it, wasn’t it? 

He was angry. 

No, not just angry. 

He was **furious**.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, unable to help the snap in his voice as he walked towards the bed. Tom’s eyes followed him the entire way, but he didn’t open his mouth to speak. “Tom, please,” he begged, stopping a few feet away from the bed, "I want to help you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tom whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk about it,” Tord replied, unable to calm the rage building inside him. He was even closer now, and it was even easier to see all the things he had brushed off before. “At least let me see what they did to you. Maybe I can help."

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Tom said, his gaze dropping slightly. He stared at his lap for a few moments before closing his eyes and breathing in, taking a deep breath. “I guess this is as good a time as any,” He muttered, lifting up his right hand and scratching at his neck. “I’m sorry. For my behavior up until this point. For..uh…trying to kill you. And punching you. And…everything else.” Tord was silent for a few moments, taking everything in before stepping forward, closing the distance between him and the bed. 

No.

Nope.

He had seen enough.

“Right, okay,” He replied, reaching out and grabbing Tom’s left hand. This needed to end. He wasn’t going to let Tom stay here any longer to be abused. Even without being shown everything, he could see there was clearly something wrong here. This wasn’t the Tom he knew and he wasn’t letting him stay here a second longer to be abused. He should have done this a long time ago. "Apology accepted, let’s just get you out of here.” 

“Wait, don’t-“ Tom started to say, before Tord pulled at his arm, trying to urge him out of the bed. Instead, as soon as he pulled on his arm Tom suddenly stiffened, his entire body going rigid as he fell out of the bed and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Tord released his arm in surprise, staring at Tom in shock as he groaned and slowly picked himself up, using only his right arm and his knees. His left arm, however, remained limp. It was only when Tom climbed to his feet did he grasp the shoulder of his left arm, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as slowly moved a few of the fingers on his left hand. “Please, don’t touch my arm,” Tom said, curling his fingers into a fist before letting his fingers go slack like the rest of his arm. “It really hurts.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tord quickly replied, noticing for the first time the bandages poking out from underneath the sleeve of his left arm. He had only seen the injured that weren’t hidden by Tom’s clothing. How much worse were they? Apparently enough that his entire left arm hurt at just the slightest pull. Well, he knew that well enough at least. He’d just have to make sure he didn’t touch Tom’s left arm at all. “But please, let’s get you out of here. I don’t know who hurt you but I’m not going to let them do it again.” Tom stared at him for a moment before sighing and holding out his right hand this time. 

“You really have changed, haven’t you?”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Tord replied with a smile, pushing the thoughts of the red book hidden away in his pocket to the back of his mind. 

Later, later.

Leading him to the door, Tord pulled it open with enough force that it banged open, surprising Patryk enough to cause him to jump. But he didn’t stop to chat, instead guiding Tom out into the hallway. All those walks around the facility they had taken him on in the past week since the incident were certainly looking very useful now. Knowing where the garage was made this much, much easier.

“Tord?” Patryk called, quickly catching up to the two of them. He glanced nervously at Tom before focusing on Tord again. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be walking around with him like this. Paul isn’t going to be happy.”

“I’m taking him home,” Tord replied dismissively, waving his worries away with a gesture of his hand. “He shouldn’t have been stuck here this entire time anyway. If you’re so worried you can come with. Or, even better, you can drive. I don’t remember if that’s something I know how to do.”

“Wait, are you leaving?” Patryk asked, concern creeping into his voice. “Paul is really not going to be happy about that.”

“I don’t know, Patryk,” Tord groaned, stopping short in the surprisingly deserted hallway. He let go of Tom’s arm to instead turn to Patryk, staring up at him with a frown. “I’m just trying to get him home for now. I’ll…I’ll decide on the way I guess.”

“Look, Tord, I really want to be supportive of whatever decision you make but leaving is a bad idea. Sure, you have amnesia but you can’t just hide from your past. Are you going to spend your whole life hiding from the police? Hiding from the law? There are people out there that see you as a threat and they don’t care if you have your memories or not. We’re the only ones who can keep you safe here.” Tord sighed, rubbing his forehead. He knew that. Of course he knew that. He spent five days in a gutter thinking about that. But he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to believe he could just go back and see his friends again without having to worry about all of that.

“Tord, can we just leave?” Tom asked, reaching out and grasping his uninjured hand and gently pulling him down the hallway. “The faster we get out of here, the less likely we’ll run into someone.”

“Bit late for that,” Paul declared, rounding the corner with his gun drawn, pointed past Tord and directly at Tom’s chest. “What the hell are you doing out of your cell?” He didn’t look happy. He really didn’t look happy. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Tord, step away from him before he hurts you again.” At the sight of the gun Tom quickly let go of Tord’s wrist and lifted his right hand into the air to show he was unarmed. His left hand, admittedly slower than his right, strained to join it to show he really wasn’t a threat. 

“No, it’s okay,” Tord quickly replied, trying to pacify the situation. “He’s not going to hurt me. He’s the one who’s hurt. I’m just trying to get him home.”

“Being hurt didn’t stop him from trying to strangle you,” Paul snapped back, keeping the pistol steady. “I’m not going to let that happen again.” With a soft click he disengaged the safety. 

Wait a minute.

“You knew he was hurt?” Tord asked, feeling the familiar tightness in his jaw as he stepped towards Paul, ignoring the threat of the gun. He wouldn’t shoot. Not him, anyway. “You knew he was hurt and you didn’t help him?” 

“I didn’t realize until I had to rescue you,” Paul replied, refusing to lower the gun even as Tord stepped in front of the barrel. “I told them to leave him alone. What else did you want me to do? Move him into the medical ward with you? It was hard enough treating you without giving you a panic attack from seeing him again. Or, you know, giving him the opportunity to strangle you all over again.” He frowned, starting to step to the side so he could take aim at Tom again without Tord in the way. “Which, wouldn’t you know, I’m trying to prevent now. So if you’ll just let me escort him back to his cell.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tord hissed, grabbing the side of the gun with both hands and twisting it, trying to pull the gun away from Paul. His right arm throbbed with pain but he clenched his jaw and pushed past it. Paul was clearly much stronger than him now, and had full use of both of his hands, but if he just twisted it the right way sideways, he was going to have to drop the gun. But Paul had clearly no intention of doing so, and was struggling to prevent Tord from twisting the gun away from him while also trying not to hurt him. “Just let go already!”

“That’s not going to happen, Boss.”

“If you just shut up and listen for a second we can just talk this over.”

“I’m just trying to stop you from getting hurt _again_.”

“The only one who is going to end up hurting someone here is you thanks to you waving that stupid gun around!” With a scowl he pushed his whole body against the gun, twisting it sideways. Clenching his jaw, he tried to push it further as he could clearly see Paul straining to keep his hold on it. Just a little bit more. Just a little bit more and-

**BANG**

Tord gasped, jerking his hand away from the gun in surprise as it suddenly went off and flinching backwards, his eyes wide in alarm.

The end of the gun smoked.

His ears rang.

He was….fine? He didn’t feel any pain or see any blood. Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly turned his focus to the others. In the mess of trying to pry the gun away from Paul, he wasn’t really focusing on where the gun was aiming, only trying to twist it in such a way that Paul was forced to let go. A quick glance at Paul told him that it didn’t look like he had been hit either. That was good. That left Tom and-

With a strangled gasp of pain, Patryk staggered backwards, his hands tightly clasped over his stomach. His face twisted briefly before his back collided with the wall. His knees shook for a moment before giving out and he slid down the wall to the floor, teeth clenched together. His hands suddenly went limp, slipping down to his sides and his head tipped forward before his body pitched to one side and he collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Blood blossomed across his chest, staining his red sweater a darker shade as he lay on the ground. Motionless. Silent.

_Dead._

Tord’s heart thumped loudly in his throat, droning out the ringing in his ears but not drowning out the thoughts that he had…Patryk was...

_Dead, dead, dead._

With a clang the gun dropped to the floor, forgotten entirely as Paul sank to his knees beside Patryk, pressing both of his hands against Patryk’s stomach and pressing down, his teeth clenched together. 

Paul’s mouth was moving, forming words that Tord could make out but Patryk didn’t response. Shifting his hands slightly, he reached out, pressing two of his fingers against Patryk’s neck while his other hand continued to press down on Patryk’s stomach. He held his fingers there for a few seconds before pulling them away again and pressing down on Patryk’s stomach again. His gaze jerked up, boring holes in Tord as his mouth opened and he was saying _something_. 

“BOSS!”

He jerked slightly, taking a small step backwards and inhaling sharply. His lungs hurt and the pain grounded him enough to blink, snapping to awareness. His mouth was dry. His knees and hands were shaking. His vision blurred at the edges and his throat squeezed shut, bringing back hauntingly familiar memories of pain until his hands reached up, trying to pry off hands that weren’t actually there. What was he supposed to do? What could he do?

_Nothing._

“TORD!” Paul yelled again, shifting his hands slightly before pressing down again, trying to keep the pressure on Patryk’s stomach. “FUCK! Stop crying and help me already, dammit!” Unsurprisingly, the shouting didn’t help. Taking a step back, he stared down at Paul and the unnaturally still body lying beside him, trying to catch his breath. It didn’t work.

He felt tired. 

He felt sick.

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm-his right arm-just above the wrist and he choked back a cry of pain as his left hand instinctively tried to pry the fingers off of his wrist. Glancing over his shoulder in surprise, he stared wordlessly at Tom as the other man pull at his wrist, causing him to stumble slightly and a new wave of pain to wash over his arm. “We need to leave,” Tom said, a sense of urgency behind his words. _Why?_ It was at that moment that Tord heard them.

Footsteps.

Many footsteps. 

“Tord,” Tom said, his grip tightening around his arm until he saw dark spots. His head hurt. “ _Now._ ” He was pulling now and Tord stumbled after him, glancing back over his shoulder at where Patryk was lying on the ground.

_Dead_ , his brain unhelpfully supplied.

“Shit, stop!” Paul yelled, shifting like he wanted to get up and stop Tom from dragging him off, but a quick glance back down at Patryk and he resumed applying pressure to Patryk’s stomach with a scowl. The footsteps grew louder and Tom was tugging at his arm again with renewed urgency, only for Tord to fall to his knees with a cry of pain as the action sent even more pain spiraling up his arm. His shoulders shook as he clawed at his own arm, unable to properly form words around his own choked sobs. It hurt. Even after all this time it hurt. Thankfully enough Tom stopped dead in his tracks and turned around before apparently realizing his mistake and quickly dropping Tord’s arm. 

“Crap, sorry” Tom muttered, glancing down the hallway before quickly grabbing his left arm instead and dragging him to his feet and down the hallway, leaving Tord with no choice but to stumble after him, wiping the tears from his eyes and trying to choke back his own sobs of…Pain? Grief? He couldn’t really tell them apart at this point and he couldn’t think straight enough to actually try to sort out his thoughts. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to retreat into the swirling black. Everything around him seemed to fade away until all he could hear was the ringing in his ears.

Just block it out.

Just forget.

Embrace the numbness.

He was vaguely aware of Tom saying something, but quickly jerked back to reality with a gasp as Tom clapped his hands together just a few centimeters in front of his face. He stumbled backwards in surprise but didn’t go very far before Tom caught ahold of the front of his hoodie and pulled him him back.

“Tord, stop, it’s just me,” Tom whispered urgently, glancing over his shoulder before pushing him towards the…car? He glanced around, quickly realizing they were no longer running down the hallway. Instead, they were in some kind of garage with steel walls, alongside a car with one of the doors open. “Get in. We’re getting out of here.” Latching onto the order, Tord wordlessly nodded and climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut behind him before pulling his knees close to his chest and staring down at the floor of the car. 

He didn’t move when Tom climbed into the driver’s seat, turning the key that was already in the ignition and the car roared to life.

He didn’t say anything when the car screeched out of the garage and onto the unpaved gravel pathway that led deep into the surrounding forest. 

He barely glanced at Tom as he adjusted the rear view mirror before saying something muffled by the shock and pulling something out of the pocket of his hoodie. 

A pistol.

_Dead._

The pistol.

_Dead, dead, dead._

He threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bang**


	28. Set Fire to the Rain

The contents of his stomach covered the floor of the passenger’s side of the car. But he continued to cough and choke, spitting up more and more until there was nothing left and his stomach felt like it was being squeezed dry. But even then he continued to gag, dry heaving as his fingers dug into the dashboard in front of him, his elbows locked stiff and his shoulders shaking. His vision blurred-possibly from tears or possibly from the stench of his own vomit-but he couldn’t move his arms enough to actually try to clear his vision. The only thing he could do was continue to gag.

“Jesus Christ,” Tom muttered, filling the silence that was only otherwise occupied by the sound of Tord retching. He could only afford to spare a glance at Tord before looking up at the gravel road ahead of them. Or maybe he was trying not to look at Tord as he vomited out of worry that he might start gagging himself. He did shift one hand off of the steering wheel to roll down the windows, although it quickly returned to the wheel. That was probably good, since his other hand wasn’t really steering so much as it was resting on top of the wheel. His gaze frequently drifted up to the rear view mirror, although if he was worried about any kind of pursuers he didn’t say anything.

In fact, he didn’t say anything else beyond those two words.

The car ride continued in silence, broken only by Tord’s retching. 

Eventually, that too faded.

Bringing his arms back to his chest, Tord covered his nose and mouth with one sleeve, trying to block out the smell of vomit that now filled the car. Even with the windows down, it hardly helped. Even just glancing towards the floor of the car was enough to make him queasy, and that didn’t even include the smell. He curled in on himself, his other arm crossing over his chest and pressing in, trying to calm his stomach down even as it felt like it was being twisted into knots. 

It was surprisingly easy to slip back into blankness. To clear his mind and try to push out all of the thoughts. It was easier to block everything out again. He wanted to forget. He closed his eyes, resting his head between his knees and letting himself fall back into the soothing rhythm of the car bouncing across the gravel road. 

“If you’re done throwing up, I have a few questions,” Tom said, breaking the silence and forcing Tord to open his eyes again. Oh. Right. He had been saying something earlier, hadn’t he? He hadn’t actually heard what Tom had been trying to before he had suddenly started throwing up. Before he had seen the…

His gaze drifted to the pistol sitting on Tom’s lap and his mouth went dry. Patryk had been shot with that gun. _He_ shot Patryk with that gun.

He wanted to throw up again, to empty his stomach on the floor of the car and forget. He wanted to close his eyes and not see Patryk, hands clasped against his own stomach as bright, crimson blood spread out across his sweater moments before he collapsed onto the ground. He wanted his ears to stop ringing from the sharp crack of the gun firing, and the even louder scream of Paul as he begged for help, his hands desperately pressing into Patryk’s chest in a useless attempt to stop him from bleeding out on the cold, hard, metal floor.

He never meant to hurt anyone. He just wanted to leave. He just wanted to go home.

But here he was. Patryk was dead and he had been the one to pull the trigger. It was all his fault. If he had known…Somehow, if he had known, he never would have tried to leave. He could have told Patryk to get Tom back to the apartment himself instead of trying to take it into his own hands. He could have warned Paul in advance of what he was doing so he wouldn’t have been so concerned. 

But he didn’t. How could he forget when it was entirely his fault?

Fingers snapped in front of his face, pulling him back to reality. His head jerked slightly and he watched as Tom pulled his hand back to the wheel. 

“You still with us?” Tom asked. “Now is not the time to go all dark and broody on me. We are still trying to escape from a literal army that you created.”

As if on cue, a very distinct thump, thump, thumping noise echoed through the car, somehow managing to be louder than the car’s engine itself. 

“Fuck,” Tom swore loudly before temporarily jerking his eyes off the road to look at Tord. “They have a helicopter. Why the fuck do they have a helicopter?”

“They crashed the plane,” Tord replied faintly.

Tom looked like he wanted to reply. He even opened his mouth and took a breath, as if he was ready to snap about how absolutely ridiculous that was. But he managed to restrain himself and, abruptly, jerked the wheel to the side. The car veered off the road and Tord scrambled to grab ahold of the armrests, trying desperately to keep himself seated. If the gravel had been bad, this was much, much worse. Miraculously, the car managed to avoid larger trees and bushes as it crashed through the forest, plowing through smaller bushes and foliage as Tom jerked the wheel from side to side, somehow managing to maneuver around the larger plants.

When they did finally stop, Tord felt the desire to throw up more than ever. 

“Get out,” Tom snapped, unable to help the sense of urgency creeping into his voice as he turned off the car and opened his door. “We have to ditch the car. These woods are big, they won’t find us out here.”

“Wait,” Tord muttered, even as he opened the door and climbed out of the car to join Tom. “What are we supposed to do? We don’t have any supplies!” Tom didn’t respond as he walked around the side of the car and grabbed ahold of his left wrist before starting to walk deeper into the woods, leading them away from both the car and the road. “Tom!” Tord snapped, digging his heels into the ground. “We could die out there!”

“If we stay on the road they’ll find us,” Tom replied harshly, giving his arm a tug. Even after his time in the prisons, it didn’t seem to impact his strength all that much as he was easily able to jerk Tord forward with an almost supernatural strength. Tord stumbled forward and when he looked up again, Tom was staring down at him. “If we stay near the road, they’ll find us.” The gaping, black holes that were his eyes bore into Tord. “You have no idea what they did to me. You have no idea what I’ve been through!” Tord flinched at the shout and his gaze quickly dropped to the bruises around Tom’s neck, barely hidden by his hoodie, before lowering even further to look at Tom’s left arm. Tom was silent for a few moments before he released Tord’s wrist and took a step away from him. “I’m going back home. If you want to follow me, you can. I won’t force you, but know that I would rather die in these woods than let any single one of those people near me ever again.” 

The sound of the helicopter overhead was enough to make them both look up. With a soft grunt, Tom quickly turned away from the road, the car, and Tord and quickly set off into the woods. Tord stared at the back of his blue hoodie as he walked away before curling the fingers of his left hand into a fist. 

He have left him alone once. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

Quickly starting up after him, Tord jogged to catch up before grabbing ahold of Tom’s right hand with his left. Tom paused temporarily to glance back at him, before giving a small, almost unnoticeable nod and starting off again, deeper into the woods.

\--- 

Rain began to fall later that evening. 

Neither one of them noticed it at first. The thick canopy of leaves above them had hidden the dark, grey clouds as they rolled in and masked the first few drops of rain. But as it began to pour, water made it’s way down to the forest floor below. It was then, and only then, that Tom decided it was time to find a place to rest. 

Tord sighed in relief as they finally sat down beneath one particularly old tree. The tree’s trunk was twisted sharply above them, creating a space beneath it’s heavy, branches that was relatively dry. They had been walking for a long time and this was the first time they had taken a break. Without any food, they were left hungry, but they wouldn’t find food until they made it out of the forest. Tom didn’t care much for directions except away from the road. So they had walked in a straight line until now. Eventually, he reasoned, they would find a way out of the forest as long as they kept heading in the same direction. 

At least they hadn’t heard the helicopter for a few hours. That was a relief.

Tord tugged uncomfortably at his red hoodie. Although they had found the tree quickly after it had really begun to pour, it was still soaked and sticking to his skin. With a grunt, he slowly pulled the hoodie off and laid it down on the roots of the tree beside him before looking down at his injured arm. The bandages didn’t look like they had suffered too much from the water, thankfully, so it was probably safe to keep them on. Either way, he was exhausted from walking so far and so quickly. For a guy who just got out of prison, Tom moved fast. His lungs just couldn’t keep up with that kind of pace and he had spent most of the walk wheezing.

Tom sat down alongside him, his hoodie equally soaked. But he didn’t take it off. He just slouched slightly, drew his knees into his chest and closed his eyes, as if he was about to fall asleep right then and there, sitting upright and everything.

That… that couldn’t be comfortable, right? His sweatshirt was soaking wet! Even if he was so exhausted he wanted to fall asleep sitting like that, he could at least take of the hoodie so he didn’t get sick. Besides, the sweatshirt looked absolutely disgusting. It was covered in grime and dirt and some dark stains that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

It probably wasn’t that though. Right?

“Hey Tom?” Tord called out tentatively, not wanting to make him upset but knowing that Tom getting sick would be even worse than him getting angry. “Do you want to take off your sweatshirt?”

“It’s fine,” Tom replied, not even opening his eyes to look at Tord.

“But you might get sick if you leave it on,” Tord pressed on with a frown. “It’s not that cold out anyway.” 

“I would really rather not,” Tom said before shifting slightly away from Tord. “It’s not that wet anyway,” he continued, as if Tord couldn’t see that the sweatshirt was absolutely soaked. Tord huffed softly, inching closer to Tom. Well, he wasn’t going to give up that easily then. 

“Tom, I really think-“

“Leave me alone, Tord!” Tom snapped before he could finish, pushing him away with enough force that Tord lost his balance and fell onto his side. His right side. His right arm shot out, instinctively trying to catch himself from falling, only to crumble under his own weight. Pain flared up through his arm and into his shoulder as his entire arm was pinned between his body and the tree. Grasping his shoulder, Tord hissed in pain but managed to roll over onto his back in time to see Tom standing again, staring down at him. Tom breathed heavily for a moment before rubbing at his eyes and sharply turning away from him. “Just go to sleep,” he muttered before walking around the side of the tree and sitting down as far as he physically could from Tord while still being protected from the rain. 

Slowly picking himself upright, Tord winced in pain as he rubbed his shoulder. He had thought that they had some kind of understanding now, but it didn’t seem to be that way. Even if they had apologized to each other and were escaping together, Tom seemed constantly angry. Was he doing something wrong? If only Edd was with them. He seemed like the only person who could actually make them see eye to eye. Until then, there wasn’t anything he could do. He didn’t want to get another black eye.

“Sorry,” He muttered, finding one relatively flat area and laying down on the ground. Resting his head on one of the curved roots of the tree, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

\---- 

**BOOM**

Tord jerked awake, sucking in a harsh breath as the sky visible through the trees faded from white to black as the lightning quickly faded. Gasping for air, his hands pulled at his shirt, clawing desperately at the fabric in an attempt to free himself form the material that suddenly felt like it was choking him.

He never wanted to hurt anyone.

He never wanted to hurt _him_.

 _Patryk_.

Choking back a sob, he managed to muster up enough energy to roll onto his side and slowly pick himself up into a kneeling position, his shoulders violently shaking. He was going to throw up again. He squeezed his eyes shut but all he could see was him lying on the ground. All he could hear was the gunshot.

**BOOM**

It was his fault. It was all his fault. Patryk was dead because of him. He had shot him. He had shot him and just stood there as he bled out on the floor. He had run instead of staying to help. He had run from his problems. He was still running. But how far could he go until all of his mistakes caught up to him and swallowed him whole?

“Tord, calm down,” a voice murmured, barely audible over his own shaking sobs. He couldn’t. He couldn’t calm down it was his fault. Everything, all of it was his fault. He couldn’t-

A tentative hand came to rest on his back, but it was enough to pull him out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped back open and he jerked his head around, staring blankly at person suddenly sitting next to him.

_Tom?_

**BOOM**

“Easy,” Tom whispered as Tord flinched again at the noise, his breathing accelerating again. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.” 

“No,” Tord rasped, barely managing to speak but managing to spit out one word anyway. He couldn’t help this. It was too loud. It was too _similar_. “It’s all my fault. Patryk’s dead and it’s my fault.” The hand left his back and Tord closed his eyes again, lifting his hands up to his ears to try to blot out the noise. His heart felt like it was being squeezed inside his chest and he could hear every single thump of it between each crack of thunder. 

“Look at me, Tord,” Tom said, his voice suddenly firm and demanding. Tord lifted his head and opened his eyes. Tom was sitting in front of him now, but his blue hoodie was lying on the ground beside him. For a moment, Tord was baffled by it’s absence before his eyes focused on what he hadn’t been able to see before. What had been hidden previously by the hoodie.

He was wearing a plain, gray T-shirt. Or, at least, that’s what Tord assumed it had once been. The bruises Tord had seen peeking out from underneath the top of Tom’s hoodie seemed small in comparison to what he saw now. The shirt was ripped in many places and covered in concern large patches of what could only be blood. Some areas beneath the tattered shirt were covered with white bandages, but where skin was visible it was bruised dark purple and red. He could see red, glaring lines that had been stitched closed with black thread on his right arm, often overlapping with bruises. And burns. There were burns in all different shapes that he could see on his arm, disappearing under the tattered remains of his shirt until he couldn’t see them anymore.

But most alarming was his left arm. 

His arm hung limp at his side and was covered from wrist to shoulder with countless cuts. Some were bandaged, but most had to be stitched closed by countless numbers of individual stitches. It almost didn’t look real. 

“I don’t know how long I was in that room,” Tom replied with a sigh, sitting down across from Tord. “It was a bit hard to tell in between the…visits. It was always dark in there, except when someone showed up to let off some steam. I think I was the designated punching bag for just about every person inside that base.” He gestured to his injuries with a frown. “These were caused before you stumbled in. Every time they opened up the door, I knew I was going to get hurt. The person giving me food each day even tried to poison me.” 

“After you showed up, they stopped coming. They left me to starve or die of dehydration. They didn’t care which as long as I died slowly. If Patryk hadn’t come to check in on me, I probably would have died. I was ready to die. I was tired. I had given up.” He reached out, gently taking hold of Tord’s left hand with his right. “I didn’t want to show you because I didn’t want you to blame yourself. What happened to me isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for something you can’t even remember.” 

Tord sniffed, trying to wipe his eyes with his shoulder. He was crying. Why was he crying?

“What happened to Patryk isn’t your fault either,” Tom said. “You can’t beat yourself up for something you didn’t do.”

“But I did do it,” Tord managed to say. His shoulders were shaking and he could barely choke back his own sobs. “I can’t remember but I still did it. Nobody cares if I can’t remember. I’m still the same person.”

“No, you aren’t,” Tom insisted, giving his hand a small, reassuring squeeze. “Tord, I couldn’t stand you before. We hated each other so much that I threw a couch through the wall of our old house and left. You tried to blow me up with a missile. But look at us now. We’re out here in the middle of nowhere talking about our feelings in the middle of a thunderstorm. Do you really think this is something we would have done before?”

Tord didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say. But, based on what he knew about who he used to be, this didn’t seem like something he would have done before.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that I survived. I made it through hell and back and here I am. Now tomorrow I’m going to get home and sleep on a goddamn bed. I would really like if you would come back with me and we could start over again. As friends.”

“Okay,” Tord responded, nodding quickly. They could do this. They’d make it out of this forest and back home. Together.

Thunder cracked but it sounded so much more distant than before. 

"I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was long! Took me a while to write but I'm pretty pleased with it. Not as angsty as Patryk getting shot though... 
> 
> I guess I'll just have to give Paul his own chapter >:3c


	29. Homecoming

There were no nightmares that night. Sure, he woke up with an aching back from falling sleep sprawled out over a root, but at least he had slept soundly. No dreams of fire or smoke or explosions. It wasn’t the first time he had managed to sleep without nightmares since he woke up, but peaceful sleep in the past was only the result of a few hypnotics, curtesy of Paul. But Paul had been concerned about forming a habit and other disruptions to his sleep schedule, so he had only offered them rarely. 

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Tord rubbed at his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to wake himself up. Sun streamed down through the leaves above, leaving patches of light on the forest floor that made it hard to tell what time it was. He had no idea how long he had actually slept for either. 

“Oh, you’re already awake. Good.” 

Turning his head, Tord glanced briefly at Tom before nodding blearily. Nightmare-less sleep didn’t make waking up any easier. Tom, on the other hand, seemed like he had been up for a while. 

“I scouted out a bit,” Tom added, climbing over a few of the larger roots, but pausing a few feet away from Tord. He was wearing his sweatshirt again and gave no indication of the conversation they had the previous night. “The forest gets thinner not to far up ahead. Hopefully it means we aren’t too far from civilization, but it’ll leave us more exposed. We should clear out of here as soon as possible, though.”

“I’m ready,” Tord replied with a small wave of his hand as he climbed to his feet. He didn’t hear the helicopter from yesterday, but that didn’t mean the Red Army had given up on hunting them down so easily. The whole forest could be swarming with men if they realized they had ditched the car. Moving on fast was the best idea. “Lead the way.” 

They set out in the direction Tom had indicated, Tord doing his best to ignore his grumbling stomach and the dryness in his throat. Tom was likely equally as thirsty and hungry, so it seemed unfair to complain about it. They could eat when they made it back to Edd’s apartment. 

Back _home_. 

It was strange to think about returning there after so long. He still missed Edd and Matt but he had no idea how long he had been gone for, and he didn’t know how they would react. Had they been looking for him? Would they be happy to see him? What if they weren’t? Shaking his head, Tord rubbed his hands through his hair, driving the thought from his head. No, no. They would certainly be happy to see him again. Everything could go back to the way it was before. His hands slid into the pockets of his hoodie and he glanced up at Tom to make sure he wasn’t looking before he pulled out the small red book he had hidden in his pocket. His book. 

\---

_He bit his lower lip as his fingers brushed over the cover. Maybe he’d never see them again. If he did, would they want to see him? Would they understand what had happened or just blame him like Tom had? Maybe it was just time to accept his past instead of running from it. Maybe it was time to try to be who he was supposed to be._

_He opened the book._

_His eyes hovered over the works scrawled on the first page. His own handwriting. The words were scrawled over the page in a tight, compact script, like he was trying to conserve as much of the paper as it could. Like the paper itself was a precious resource. Focusing on the words at the top of the page, he began to read._

_**November 11th, 2006** _

_His hands shook. Maybe this was a mistake. What if reading this book managed to actually trigger his memories. Did he really want that? He could just close the book and walk away. Walk away from this whole mess.  
But what about the police? He glanced down at the wanted poster with a frown. Patryk was right, the law didn’t care that he had lost his memory. Maybe it was just better to read the book and continue on this path. Not to involve Edd and Matt at all and get them labeled as accomplices if he was found out. _

_His hand rubbed at his eye. No, he couldn’t do that just yet. He couldn’t forget about Tom who was still in the prisons. At the very least he was going to make sure he got Tom home. He’d read it later. After. Closing the book with a snap, he tucked it into his hoodie as Patryk knocked on the door again. He didn’t need to know._

_“Tord?” Patryk called, "I’m coming in now!"_

—

He’d never gotten a chance to read the thing. He had never really planned for it to go this way either. He just wanted to get Tom back safe and sound and he was still committed to that. But he still didn’t know if he would read the book. If he could ever read the book. With a sigh, he pulled out the other thing hidden in his pocket: the phone Patryk had given to him. He had forgotten he had tucked it in there, honestly. There didn’t seem to be much to it, really. A few games, an internet browser to look things up. He started to shift through the phone when his foot suddenly snagged on something and his ankle _twisted_ and he slammed on the ground with a thud, the phone falling from his hand and sliding across the ground. Looking back over his shoulder, Tord stared at the tree root he had managed to catch his foot on when he wasn’t paying attention. Great. 

“You alright?” Tom asked, quickly walking back over to him.

“Yeah, I just tripped,” Tord replied, more irritated with himself for not paying enough attention than the fact he was potentially injured by the fall. It was probably only a few scrapes anyway. Tom paused a few feet away and knelt down, quickly picking up the phone where Tord had dropped it. Turning it over in his hands, he frowned before looking up at Tord. 

“Where’d you get this?” 

“What, the phone?” Tord asked, shifting around so he could look over his ankle. He had definitely twisted it. Did that mean it was sprained? Probably not broken, right? You couldn’t break an ankle just from twisting it on a root. Right? “Patryk gave it to me. I don’t know anyone’s numbers though, so it wasn’t really useful.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any service here but you should turn it off just in case,” Tom replied with a frown. “And keep it off when we get back.”

“Why?”

“You can track phones, but it doesn’t work if they’re off. Actually, we should probably just leave it here. That would be the safest bet.”

“No,” Tord insisted, climbing unsteadily to his feet and quickly swiping the phone out of Tom’s hands. “I’ll turn it off, fine. But I’m not leaving it. Patryk gave it to me so I want to keep it. It was a gift.” Maybe it was sentimental, sure. Maybe the phone wouldn’t do anything since he had to keep it off all the time. But he really did consider Patryk to be his friend and he valued the fact that he had given him a phone, even if he didn’t get a chance to use it. It was a small freedom that he had appreciated.

“Just make sure it’s off,” Tom insisted before turning around and starting forward again. Tord complied before following behind Tom, his ankle throbbing with each step that he did his best to ignore. They just had to get home. A little sprained ankle wasn’t going to slow him down any when they were so close to getting home. Clenching his teeth, he jogged to catch up with Tom, trying not to let on to the fact he had actually hurt his ankle a bit. It wasn’t that bad. 

They were in a less dense part of the forest now that Tom must have been talking about before. There was no sign of any troops, helicopters or anything else that would indicate they were being followed. Just the sounds of birds and insects, and the sounds of their own feet stomping through the leaves and brush. 

Even for a thinner part of the forest, it still seemed to stretch on for a while. They rested later on that afternoon and Tord did his best to ignore his rumbling stomach. They’d have to get out of the forest soon or risk starvation. Or was it dehydration that came first? He wasn’t too sure. Either way, they were going to be in trouble if they didn’t find other people soon. Unless Tom knew how to catch a rabbit or something, although the idea of eating a rabbit made him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He spent most of the time resting, however, simply rubbing his aching ankle, trying to soothe it as best he could.

Unfortunately, they only rested for a bit before Tom stood up and started to walk again, leading them onwards. The sun was starting to set in and Tord was about to suggest they break for the night when Tom suddenly jogged up ahead. Frowning, Tord followed as quickly as he could after him, almost hobbling on this point to try to keep up.

The trees ahead of them fell away entirely to reveal a large field with a barn at the very far end. Tord blinked a few times, taking in the sight before he looked at Tom, a smile forming on his face. “Look!” he declared happily, stepping out of the forest and towards the barn, ready to start running. The fact he was exhausted completely left his mind as the end goal was right in front of them. “A barn! Maybe someone can give us a ride!” He started to step forward when Tom suddenly cut in front of him, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back towards the forest.

“No, you stay here,” Tom replied with a frown. At Tord’s baffled expression, he sighed and shook his head. “Look, I know you’ve changed and everything from losing your memory but your face is plastered on wanted posters all across the world. Not just that, but I don’t doubt your whole army is on the look out for you now.”

“It’s not-“

“Yeah, it’s not your army but they still seemed pretty miffed you left. And that one guy absolutely hates me and probably blames me for shooting that other guy and… Well, you get the idea. Your whole army knows your face, but most of them only saw me in the dark so I’m probably safe.”

“It’s just a farm, I don’t think my whole army is going to be right there waiting for me,” Tord protested. “I mean, we haven’t heard a helicopter since we ditched the car!” 

“But they’re more likely to recognize you than they are me. Hell, even if it’s just a farmer in there he could recognize you. The scar does only cover half of your face.” That was true, but Edd and Matt had seemed to think otherwise when they had taken him out shopping. No one had recognized him then, so what were the odds one farmer would recognize him now? And even if Tom had a point, he didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone. His own army wouldn’t hurt him, but Tom? They had already hurt him once. He didn’t want to let it happen again. Not when he was right here to stop it. But he didn’t have any arguments to prove his point. What could he do, order them not to hurt Tom? If Paul was there he could just decide to shoot him anyway. He certainly seemed to have a personal vendetta against Tom, and was more than willing to shoot him before, even when he tried to convince him otherwise. Besides, he ankle really was starting to hurt. It wasn’t like a break would actually hurt him.

Tord stared at Tom for a few more moments before reluctantly sitting on the ground with a sigh of defeat. “Fine,” he grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I’ll wait. But if you don’t come back soon I’m gonna come looking for you.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Tom replied and Tord watched him cut across the field towards the barn. Sighing, he rolled up his pant leg a little to examine his ankle again. After almost full day of walking on it, it had swelled up and was starting to bruise. It definitely wasn’t broken, right? He had spent a full day walking on it and you couldn’t do that with broken bones. 

Well, he wasn’t a doctor but that sounded about right. When they managed to get a ride back he could always bandage it. Luckily it only took a few minutes for Tom to come jogging back across the field towards him and toss a water bottle at him. Tord fumbled the catch but managed to unscrew it and chug about half the bottle before he had to pause for air. 

“I got the owner to drive us,” Tom declared as he helped Tord to his feet and started to drag him across the field. “He’s getting his truck ready. Apparently it’s not too far from here.” 

They met the owner at his truck and managed to squeeze into a very small back seat. Luckily Tom was right and it wasn’t long at all before they were pulling up outside a familiar apartment complex. Tom guided him inside and up a few flights of stairs before they stopped outside a door and Tom knocked a few times. It took a few moments before the door jerked open. 

“You’re back!” Edd exclaimed in shock before a wide smile split his face and he turned back around. “Matt! They’re back!” He let go of the door in favor of wrapping both of his arms around Tom and Tord, squeezing the two of them together in a tight hug. “We were so worried about you!” he exclaimed as Matt bounced outside the door and joined Edd in the group hug. “Are you two alright? You’ve been missing for so long we though something terrible happened!”

“We’re fine,” Tord wheezed, managing to pull in enough air to reply. It wasn't really true. His arm hurt. His ankle hurt. His chest hurt. He was hungry and thirsty and Tom was no doubt feeling the same from what little he had seen. But he wrapped his arms around the three of them and returned the hug as best he could anyway with a smile. Sure, they were a little worse for wear but that didn't matter much right now. 

“We’re back. We’re _home_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that one took a while! Prepare your butts for the next chapter :P


	30. Intermission Part 3

_Beep_

He was exhausted.

_Beep_

He just wanted to sleep. His eyes were still closed it would be easy to just drift off again.

_Beep_

Except for the beeping. What was beeping?

_Beep_

Was it an alarm clock? Someone really needed to turn that off. It was really starting to get on his nerves.

_Beep_

His eyes finally cracked open on the fifth beep and he blinked slowly up at the white-tiled ceiling above him. Huh. This wasn’t his room. And it certainly wasn’t Paul’s room either. Where the hell had he fallen asleep, then?

_Beep_

He turned his head to the side and stared accusingly at the source of the beeping. A machine sat next to his bedside innocently, beeping every few moments as it measured his heart rate. Huh. Slowly easing himself up onto his elbows, he stared down the length of the bed he was resting on. About halfway down, sitting in a chair with his arms crossed on the bed and his head laying on top of his arms, was Paul. He looked like he had been sleeping, but sitting upright had clearly disturbed him and he slowly lifted his head.

“Good morning,” Patryk said with a weary smile. Paul stared at him for a few moments before finally managing to croak out a response.

“Pat?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes looked red. Bloodshot, even. Like he had stayed up all night then jumped in a heavily chlorinated pool. Or crying. Had he been crying? The smile quickly fell away from Patryk’s face.

“Are you okay?” Patryk asked, starting to lift himself up off the bed more, only for a sharp pain to suddenly flare up in his chest. Groaning, he collapsed back onto the bed, clutching a hand over his stomach. God, it felt like he had been hit by a truck. Or stabbed. Jesus Christ had he been stabbed? Before he could try to figure out, Paul had managed to scramble out of his chair in record speed and placed both hands against Patryk’s shoulders. 

“Don’t get up,” He said quickly, pulling a blanket away from Patryk’s chest so he could examine his chest. “You could rip something. Just…Just lay there, okay?”

“Rip something?” Patryk echoed softly, trying to get a better look at his own stomach. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so even without lifting up his whole upper body it was easy to see the harsh, white bandages wrapped around his stomach. He shifted an arm slowly- _it felt like he was trying to move it through mud_ -and gingerly touched one of the bandages. It didn’t inspire any pain, but his chest still ached with phantom pains that didn’t seem to be going away any time soon. Maybe he really had been stabbed.

“You were shot,” Paul mumbled, unwrapping a few of the bandages to make sure Patryk hadn’t ripped any of his stitches. “It was my fault…I-I didn’t mean to but…” He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist, trying to wipe away tears. “I didn’t think you were going to make it. I was so worried.” It was hard to think about it, but he did vaguely remember what happened. Tord and his friend, Tom. The gun. He probably blacked out quickly from the pain, luckily enough. Or blood loss. Being awake for that would have been horrible, although it certainly seemed to scare Paul.

“Hey, now,” Patryk whispered, lifting a arm slowly and grabbing ahold of Paul’s hand with his own. He gave it a reassuring but weak squeeze. Energy seemed to be failing him at the moment. “It wasn’t your fault.” Paul could be a bit hotheaded, but he certainly wasn’t going to blame him when it had clearly been an accident. “Besides.” he added, “I’m still alive, right?” Paul nodded silently, squeezing Patryk’s hand until it almost hurt, almost as if he was worried Patryk’s heart would suddenly stop if he let go. Bringing his other hand up, he clasped Patryk’s hand in between both of his and gently lifted it to his forehead, his shoulders shaking as he quietly sobbed. 

“I was so scared,” Paul whispered hoarsely. “I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“You think one little bullet to the stomach is going to put me down?” Patryk replied with a grin. “You’re going to need _at least_ a tank.” It was probably a poor joke considering how close he had come to death, but it still managed to get a smile from Paul. Then again, it seemed like all they were ever doing was dodging death by the smallest margins. Maybe one day, they wouldn’t be able to smile and cry like this. But today wasn’t that day and he wasn’t going to think about it. 

“Good thing the Red Army doesn’t use any tanks,” Paul said with a smile as he wiped away his tears with the back of his sleeve. "We have to use giant robots instead because our leader watches too much anime.” Patryk smirked and nodded in agreement. 

“At least we can still use helicopters. I’m gonna cry if he says we’re going to switch over to UFOs.” Patryk started to laugh, only for his face to twist up in discomfort when the motion hurt his injury. The smile quickly fell away from Paul’s face again, replaced once again by concern. “Hey, I’m fine,” Patryk replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. It hadn’t hurt as much as trying to sit upright had. It was just…tight. Uncomfortable. 

“Are you sure?” Paul pressed, looking at him anxiously. His attention drifted to an IV nearby that was probably at least partially responsible for how sluggish he felt. Pain killers tended to do that. “I could up the dose a little bit."

“Positive,” Patryk replied with a nod. “So… what happened while I was out?” It was straight to business, but it could help distract Paul from trying to baby him as much. While he didn’t necessarily mind, it just seemed to make Paul more anxious and he already looked exhausted. 

“Uhhh,” Paul mumbled, looking away from him guilty. Uh-oh. 

“Paul?” Patryk pressed with a frown.

“Well…the prisoner kinda dragged Tord off and escaped. Stole a car and drove it before anyone could stop them. A couple of the Lieutenants tried chasing after with a few squads them but they haven’t found anyone. They made it to a nearby farm and hitched a ride, so they're alive at least. Everything is kinda in shambles now and I haven’t been able to address it yet. You’ve been out of it for about two days.” 

“Wonderful,” Patryk groaned in a way that clearly indicated that it was not wonderful at all. He thought for a moment before holding out his hand. “Lemme see your phone.” Although he looked puzzled, Paul fished into his pockets and pulled out the phone, quickly handing it over. Keying in the password, Patryk quickly punched in a number and dialed. Unfortunately, it didn’t even ring before going into voicemail. “Ah, shit. I guess he turned it off.”

“What?” Paul asked, tilting his head to one side.

“I gave Tord his old phone back,” Patryk explained as the automated voice explained how to leave a message. "I figured if he got lost or something in the hallway he could call for help. I guess I’ll just leave him a voicemail.” The phone beeped in his ear and he held up a finger, motioning for Paul to be quiet. “Hey Tord, it’s Patryk. Just wanted to let you know I’m not dead. If you get this message, call me back. We’re both really worried about you, okay?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call. Hopefully the message would get through eventually. If he wasn’t in deep shit already.

“Is that okay?” Paul asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Patryk asked with a shrug. “I mean, his phone obviously has a bug in it so I can track it. Regardless of if he keeps it on or off, I can find him. But if we track him down now and bring him back in by force, how do you think he’ll react? I mean, I’m pretty sure he considers last time to be a kidnapping.”

“Is it really a kidnapping if he isn’t a child?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit."

“Besides,” Patryk continued with a shrug, “We need to have a different approach. We both know he isn't the same person he was before, and if he hasn't remembered us after all this time, I don't think it's likely he ever will. Trying to shove him into the back of our car again isn't the right move for any of us. We could at least give him a few days to call back before we go trying to find him."

“I guess you’re right,” Paul replied, barely stifling a yawn that Patryk still managed to catch. Patryk’s eyes immediately narrowed suspiciously. 

“You did say I’ve been out of it for about two days, right?” Patryk asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Just about, yeah,” Paul replied with a shrug.

“And when was the last time you slept?” Patryk asked with a frown. 

“Uh…I napped a few minutes ago?” Paul replied, looking guilty once more.

“Right,” Patryk replied with a sigh. “And the last time you ate?”

“...Yesterday,” Paul admitted with a frown.

“Thought so. You’re going to go get something to eat, then you’re going to get some sleep. At _least_ six hours.” Of course it would come to the point where he was injured but still pushing Paul to actually take care of himself. When it came to running on empty, Paul managed to go until he literally dropped. Patryk had no doubt in his mind that the nap he had woken Paul out of had not been intentional at all, and Paul had been ready to stay awake for several more hours with no sleep. 

“I can sleep later,” Paul replied firmly. Obviously, he felt like he could avoid following Patryk’s directions considering Patryk was currently unable to simply pick him up and carry him to a bed. Usually, Patryk tended to be the stronger one and had no issues forcing Paul to take care of himself when the situation called for it. But now, everything was flipped. Paul was suddenly stronger than him and Patryk couldn’t use the threat of brute force to get him to sleep and eat.

Fine, two could play that game.

“If you don’t sleep I’m going to get out of bed,” Patryk threatened and Paul’s face immediately twisted in concern. “I’m gonna stand up and rip open all my stitches and go get in a fist fight with someone.” Maybe he'd pull one from Tord's book and go run off to look into some possibly stolen tech only a few days fresh out of surgery like an idiot. 

“Yeah, well if you try to get out of bed I’ll just sedate you,” Paul retorted.

“You know it won’t kick in right away. Good luck trying to pick me up off the floor. Maybe the fall will give me a concussion.” The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Paul finally groaned.

“Fine, you win,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll go take a nap.”

“And you’ll eat something,” Patryk added.

“And I’ll eat something,” Paul confirmed with a nod. “But you need to promise me you won’t try to get up before I get back. And I’ll give you my phone so if you need anything you can call someone without having to get up. And you’ll rest.”

“No problem,” Patryk replied with a smile. “I’m exhausted anyway. I’m surprised I’m awake at all, except that machine woke me up. In all seriousness, I feel like shit.” He gestured lazily to the electrocardiograph next to the bedside and Paul frowned.

“I can’t disconnect you just yet from it but I can turn the volume down. I’ll get a notification if it suddenly flatlines, and I can position a soldier or two in here just in case something happens.” He leaned over the machine to adjust the volume on it until the beeping finally faded away to a much more reasonable volume. He could definitely sleep with it like that. Settling back down onto the bed with a relieved sigh, Patryk started to close his eyes when he realized Paul was still hovering anxiously around the bed. 

“You alright?” Patryk asked softly, resting his head down on the pillow. “I’m gonna be okay, Paul. If you’re really that worried you should just pull up a spare bed and go to sleep next to me.” Paul quickly nodded and darted across the room, grabbing ahold of one of the spare beds and wheeling it over until it was almost right next to Patryk’s. Climbing on top of the bed, he crawled under the thin white sheets and rested his head down on the pillow. Not sleeping for almost 48 hours clearly did a number on him, as he fell asleep almost immediately, leaving Patryk awake for a moment with the much quieter beeping of the machine. He stared at Paul for a moment before slowly reaching out and gently grabbing ahold of the other man's hand. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. No matter what happened, they were going to make it through together.

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

Then, he too fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you all thought he was dead >.>


	31. Tearing Up

The hug didn’t last nearly long enough before Edd pulled away and looked over the two of them with a critical eye. He seemed to focus in on his arm for a second and Tord couldn’t help but shift slightly under his scrutinizing look, but it eventually shifted to Tom, critically assessing the small purple marks on his skin poking out from underneath his sweatshirt, before focusing on his obviously black eye. Still, despite these injuries being obvious, he didn’t comment in favor of patting them both on the shoulder with a smile.

“I’m so happy you’re both back,” He said, and Tord could hear the relief in his voice and see it on his face. Actually, now that he was looking at him properly, Tord could see heavy bags under Edd’s red eyes. The same kinds of bags that had once appeared under his eyes, when he had failed to get any actual sleep that wasn’t filled with nightmares. Actually, they were probably still there, since the previous night’s sleep was the only good sleep he had gotten for some time, and that had been spent using a root for a pillow. The pain in his back was probably the smallest indicator that he felt like shit. The impromptu camping in the woods meant that his appearance probably wasn’t that far behind. “Now get inside already,” Edd added with a grin.

“Actually, do you have my spare key?” Tom asked, not moving to step forward into Edd’s apartment, but rather lurking in the hallway outside. “Lost mine and I really need to get reacquainted with a shower.” 

“You could use mine,” Edd offered, but Tom shook his head and jerked his head towards Tord. 

“Let him use yours. I dunno if they let him use one at all while we were there.” Tord frowned at that since they had, in fact, let him use a shower whenever he wanted, but suddenly he could taste vomit in his mouth again from when he had hurled in the car, and snapped his mouth closed again before he could voice his protests. Luckily, the action went unnoticed as Edd had fished out his wallet and produced a small, metal key from inside one of the pockets.

“Don’t forget to change your locks,” Edd said quietly, pressing the key into Tom’s palm. “And come right back when you’re done, okay?” Tom merely nodded in response, taking the key and walking down the hallway before sliding into his own apartment to shower. Tord watched him go with a frown. He had seen those injuries hidden carefully under the dirty, tattered remains of Tom’s sweatshirt, but even he hadn’t seen the full picture. He doubted that what he had seen, awful as it was, was all that Tom had to show for his time imprisoned. 

When he had seen him in Patryk’s room, he had asked Tom about his injuries and Tom, barely even able to hoarsely choke out the words, had insisted that he didn’t want to talk about what had happened. It wasn’t until later on, in the woods, that Tom had opened up, but even then he hadn’t really let Tord do anything to help him. They were in the woods, sure, but in the morning the hoodie had gone back on and the injuries went unheeded once more. That was only a few days ago but they had to hurt, right? And yet Tom hadn’t said anything to Edd or Matt about it. 

“Come on, Tord,” Edd said with a smile as he beckoned him inside. “You can get cleaned up in my shower.” Following inside the apartment after him, Tord found a frown creeping onto his face. Maybe he was just overthinking things. Edd had clearly seen the injuries. The black eye Tom was sporting was clearly new. But he hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were just going to talk about it later. 

“Can-“ Tord started, only to cut off as he was forced to swallow his own spit, trying to get any kind of moisture he could into his throat. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Here,” Matt said, quickly sliding over, holding a plastic bottle of water in his hands. He had already twisted the cap off, which was good news since Tord wasn’t exactly positive he’d be able to do that on his own, and it saved him the embarrassment of struggling to do so before inevitably handing it over to one of them to open for him. Accepting the bottle with a nod of thanks, he tilted the bottle back and drank gratefully from the chilled bottle. It was amazing how even something like water could taste so incredibly refreshing. Hunger and thirst really were the greatest seasonings. 

Before he even realized it the water bottle was empty. Licking his chapped lips, he twisted the cap back onto the empty container. “Do you have any clothes I can borrow?” He asked Edd as he made his way to the bathroom. 

“Of course, I can put them outside the door for when you’re done” Edd replied with a smile. “Matt and I will get started on some food as well so you can have some food afterwards as well, okay?” With a nod, Tord closed the bathroom door and made his way to the shower, only to pause as he stared at the tap. It wasn’t the same kind they used at the Red Army, and even though he had lived with Edd for some time before Paul and Patryk found him, it took him a few seconds longer than it should have to figure out how to work the shower. But he did manage to get it running and quickly stepped into the hot stream of water, unable to help but feel relieved. It was the first shower he had taken since accidentally shooting Patryk, and everything that followed. Shivering at the thought but trying to push it out of his head for now, he closed his eyes and let the scalding water run down his face.

\----

Stepping out of the bathroom after a while, he used the towel to pat his hair dry as he made his way to the main area of Edd’s apartment. The shower had been incredibly refreshing, more than he had expected, and he had managed to find some ace bandages to wrap around his bruised ankle. It had given him time to forget about everything and just let the hot water cascade over him. He could distance himself and forget everything and just focus on the fact that he was here. He was back with Edd and Matt and Tom, and everything could just go back to his it was before.

Except he could feel the book tucked into his waistband, and the cellphone was tucked safely into the pocket of the green hoodie he had borrowed from Edd. Both served as a reminder that things really couldn’t just go back to how they were before, could they?

“Hey Tord,” Matt called, waving to him from the kitchen before setting a bowl on the counter with a smile. “I made you some oatmeal to hold you over until this is done.” He gestured to the bowl as he placed a spoon inside the bowl before turning back to the stove, stirring a large pot that contained something that smelled absolutely delicious and made his stomach twist and growl, reminding him he hadn’t actually eaten in a very long time.

He was hungry. Very hungry. But while he had been initially recovering at the Red Army base, Paul had apparently decided that he couldn’t handle any food other than oatmeal. A few days of just eating brown mush and he had eventually become so infuriated with that he had thrown the bowl on the floor. Fortunately, this small outburst had been enough to convince them to give him something new to eat, but hearing Matt had made oatmeal for him to eat had immediately put a bad taste in his mouth. Still, hunger was ultimately going to win out in the end. 

“Thanks,” Tord said, forcing a smile onto his face as he sat down at the counter and picked up the spoon, only to pause when he actually looked into the steaming bowl. The oatmeal Paul had given him day after day had been bland and tasteless and more like sludge than anything actually edible. It had a strange texture to it, and an even blander taste. It was no surprise that he had quickly grown to hate whenever Paul handed him a bowl, and this, combined with his initial distrust for the two after his kidnapping off the streets, made it easy to see why he had eventually taken the bowl and tossed it on the floor, shattering it to pieces and sending oatmeal flying in different directions. He was angry and his temper had gotten the better of him, but Paul hadn’t so much as blinked as he cleaned up the mess and left the room.

It was Patryk who had returned with a bowl of rice and offered it with a smile, an apology, and a joke about how bad the food from the cafeteria was. But now he’d never see that smile again, or hear his voice. 

_Don’t think about it._

But Matt’s oatmeal looked completely different. To start, the top was absolutely covered in a layer of brown sugar, and arranged across the bowl were bananas and strawberries. Two blueberries sat near the middle, looking almost out of place amongst the other fruit. It didn’t look anything close to the sludge he had been given at the Red Army. Hunger won out quickly over curiosity and he dug the spoon into the oatmeal and took a small, tentative bite. 

“It’s sweet,” Tord said, unable to help but vocalize his surprise. It wasn’t bad at all, although he was pretty sure the half of the bite had just been pure sugar. 

“You like it?” Matt replied, glancing back at him with a wide smile. “It’s my face!” Tord glanced back down at the bowl and, now that it had been pointed out, he could see that the fruit had been arranged to look very similar to Matt’s face. The sliced bananas made up his face while the strawberries were his spiked hair. The blueberries were clearly the eyes, hence why there had only been two of them. “Oatmeal by itself can be pretty boring, but everything looks better with my face on it!”

Tord thought back to when he had visited Matt’s apartment and how he had been surprised at, but hadn’t commented on the fact that his entire living space had been occupied by rows and rows of mirrors. Painting his nails with Matt seemed like a lifetime ago now, didn’t it? 

“Hey Matt?” He asked, looking up from the face in the oatmeal to look at the genuine article. It was almost uncanny how Matt had been able to recreate his face in a bowl of oatmeal using only fruit, but somehow he had managed. “Do you think we can paint our nails again? And maybe watch another movie?” They hadn’t really watched the movie so much as they had chatted over it, but it had still been so relaxing. 

Besides, there was _something_ he wanted to ask him about.

“Absolutely! Oh, we could watch the sequels!” He paused for a moment before shrugging. “Actually, if you ask me, we should skip right to the most recent one. The others are good, but I really like what they did with the newest movie and I think you’ll like it too.” Matt glanced at the pot on the stove before lowering the temperature down to a simmer with a shrug and pulling out his phone, quickly punching in a series of numbers. “Lemme just give Edd a call so he knows we went to my place and doesn’t worry and can watch the soup when he gets back”

“Actually, where is Edd?” Tord asked, looking around as Matt held the phone up to his ear.

“Oh, he went over to Tom’s place a couple of minutes ago to check up on him and give him some oatmeal too.” The phone apparently clicked through as Matt turned slightly away to quickly chatter to Edd. Turning back to the oatmeal, Tord quietly scooped another spoonful into his mouth. Huh. It looked like Matt had mixed some blueberries into the oatmeal itself. A pleasant surprise that he absolutely appreciated and helped unintentionally distance this from what Paul had given him. “Okay,” Matt said, slipping the phone back into his pocket and hurrying out of the kitchen area towards the door. “Come on, let’s go! Bring your oatmeal with you!”

Sliding out off the stool, Tord picked up the bowl and followed Matt towards the door and down the hall the short distance to his apartment. Matt closed the door behind them and quickly darted into his bedroom, grabbing a towel and laying it out over the foot of his bed before grabbing several bottles of nail polish and putting them on the bed nearby. 

Within a few minutes he had managed to get the movie started and Tord was sitting on the bed next to him, swallowing another bite of oatmeal as the opening credits began to play.

 _The Legend of the Neverbeast_.

Matt was cleaning the old nail polish off his toes with something that smelled positively horrendous, but seemed to do a good job of getting the old color off so he could start again. Based on the color sitting closest to him, he was going with something purple this time around, probably to match his hoodie. Once more Tord found himself impressed by Matt’s skill to use a tiny brush to expertly paint such a small thing like a toenail, as as soon as he had finished wiping away the previous color he had started painting on the new polish, and was almost done the first coat already. But Matt had apparently pulled out all the stops this time, since in addition to the nail polish containers there was now small bottles of some kind of powder, as well as little brushes and a sheet of what looked like tiny stickers. Shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully as he picked up one of the containers of powder, watching as the colors shifted as the light hit it. Were these really all used for nails? Clearly, this was a step up from last time.

“While I’m waiting for mine to dry, what color do you want?” Matt asked, looking over the polish colors he had grabbed before picking up one container and holding it out for him to look over. “Red?”

_Blood._

“No thanks,” Tord said, feeling slightly nauseous but forcing the thoughts of what had happened back down as he scanned over the polish colors before picking one up. “How about this one?” He asked, holding it out to Matt to appraise.

“Grey?” Matt said curiously, but took the bottle all the same. “Sure, why not? I bet it’ll look god on you.” Unscrewing the top off the bottle, he set to work, easily painting his nails with a coat of grey polish. By the time he had finished, Tord had finished the entire bowl of oatmeal he had been eating, and placed the empty bowl on the towel next to him. Turning back to his own feet, Matt began to apply a new coat. The last time they had been doing this, the conversation had ultimately turned to the fact that he and Matt both lost their memories of the past. They were very similar in that sense, and he had been grateful that Matt had been so quick to forgive him for his past mistakes. The book tucked into his waistband was an obvious reminder of his current internal debate of if he should attempt to reclaim his old memories and his past, or just burn the damn thing and be done with the whole mess with no temptations of ever trying to read it. Matt was probably the only person who could possibly understand that struggle, and before he knew it he was opening his mouth, breaking the silence between them.

“Matt?” 

“Hmm?” Matt asked, not glancing up from his task of painting his toes. 

“If you had a book you had written before you lost your memories of everything you had done, would you read it knowing that it might let you remember everything you’d forgotten?” 

“That’s an oddly specific question,” Matt replied, finally looking up from his nails. A bit of polish dripped off the end of the brush and onto the towel beneath them. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Tord replied, maybe just a bit too quickly, and saw Matt tip his head to the side. The book against his skin suddenly felt glaring obvious, like Matt could somehow see right through him and notice what he was hiding. This was a bad idea. “Just a hypothetical question.” Matt frowned slightly at that and Tord felt his heart beating frantically in his chest. This was a terribly bad idea.

“I’m not sure,” Matt finally admitted with a shrug, glancing towards the TV to watch the movie. Tord hadn’t really been paying attention, but it looked like a few of the fairies were hunting down a large monster-like creature through the woods. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy now. I’m just doors away from my two best buddies, I’ve got my own place and I get to walk into my apartment each day and see myself surrounded by my own beautiful face.” He smiled at that, obviously referencing the mirrors that covered the main room of his apartment. 

“But,” Matt continued, closing the bottle of nail polish and setting it down beside him. “I know there’s something I’m missing. Sometimes Tom or Edd will say something and even though I was there, I can’t remember it at all. Not even something little to spark my memories. When you showed up for the first time, I had no idea who you were even though we had been roommates for years. I can pretend to brush it off, but it doesn’t feel right knowing I’m missing something. So I honestly couldn’t say. I don’t have a book that could potentially make me remember, and without that choice in front of me I don’t know what I’d do in that moment.”

“That makes sense,” Tord agreed, but found the answer hadn’t really helped him at all. He still didn’t know what to do, but he did have that choice in front of him. Even if he did remember, how would the others respond? Paul and Patryk had really wanted him to remember, but he had…

The nausea returned and he forced the thought back down along with the bile in his throat. 

He couldn’t go back there now anyway. 

“Is your ankle okay?” Matt asked, interrupting his train of thoughts as he gestured to the bandages wrapped around his ankle. 

“Oh, it’s fine, just bruised up a bit.”

“You should have said something,” Matt said, sliding off the bed. “Stay here, I’ll go get you an ice pack.” With that, he ducked out of the room, leaving Tord alone with the movie. Turning to look at it again, he found that the white monster from earlier had grown winds and horns, making it look even fiercer than before. Obviously it was the villain in this story. Shoving his hands into the pocket of the green hoodie he had borrowed, his fingers brushed over the phone hidden inside the pocket. Just another reminder of the man who had given it to him.

God, what was he even doing?

Why was it everything had to remind him of Patryk or Paul? He just wanted things to go back to how they had been before all of this. He wanted to be able to push all thoughts of the Red Army from his mind and enjoy his time here, back home. But he couldn’t even sit and watch a movie with Matt without worrying about something that ultimately tied back to them? Why couldn’t things just be easy and the answers obvious? 

With a hiss of frustration, he hefted up his shirt and hoodie and grabbed the tiny red notebook, pulling it out of it’s hiding place. Matt didn’t have to think about things like this stupid book because he didn’t have one, and he didn’t have to worry about what might happen because his past didn’t involve nearly killing his friends. Jerking open the book to a random page, he grabbed ahold of a few sheets of paper, ignoring the neat, tight handwriting that covered the pages. All of his problems stemmed from the fact that he had found this stupid book in the first place. He should just be thankful he was back with his friends, but instead he was fussing and fretting over a tiny notebook he was too scared to even read. Instead he was breaking down over just the prospect of _maybe_ reading it and his old memories _maybe_ coming back. 

Well, he didn’t have to fuss over a stupid fucking book if there wasn’t a book to fuss over in the first place. 

With a determined scowl, he pulled hard, ripping the pages out of the tiny red book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
>  
> 
> Well, RIP Tord's book (Haha puns).
> 
> Check you this awesome video that Tumblr user [Drawinggheys](http://drawinggheys.tumblr.com/) made:  
> [Link](http://drawinggheys.tumblr.com/post/168794864140/a-lil-video-tribute-to-minubells-forget-me-not)


	32. Soldiering On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To understand a few of the minor references here, I'd suggest reading [Asphodel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150265) if you haven't already!

As soon as Tom made it back to his apartment and had safely locked the door behind him, he began the slow and agonizing process of trying to peel off his clothes so he could take a shower. The real trouble was the fact he couldn’t really move his left arm at all. He had somehow managed to wiggle his way out of his hoodie the day before in an attempt to comfort Tord, but he had practically bitten off his tongue trying to keep himself silent when the fabric caught on his open injuries. 

But now Tord wasn’t around. Nobody was around. And honestly, he was pretty sure this hoodie and his shirt underneath were ruined at this point and there really wasn’t much of a point in trying to salvage them since he wasn’t trekking through a forest where every scrap of clothing counted. In fact, first chance he got, he was going to toss these particular clothes in a trashcan in some back alley and burn them just to make sure he never had to look at them again. Anything to keep those awful memories out of his mind. 

Making his way through the mess of his apartment, Tom frowned slightly as he glanced around at the papers scattered around. Oh, right, he had almost entirely forgotten that he had been trying to figure out what Tord was up to before they had both been kidnapped off the street in broad daylight. He was going to have a lot of cleaning up to do in order to get this place back into shape, wasn’t he? 

Rummaging around the mess, he eventually managed to locate a pair of scissors thrown haphazardly behind a couch. They fit awkwardly in his right hand since they were obviously left handed scissors, and it took him a few seconds to get a comfortable grip on them, before he slipped one edge under the front of the hoodie just below his stomach. A few careful cuts later and he had cut a vertical line up the front of the hoodie. Slowly as not to disrupt his injuries any further, he shrugged off the hoodie before doing the same to the shirt underneath, which had gained a few bloodstains on it. Great, that meant he had probably pulled something open. Wonderful. 

Okay, good. He was nowhere near done, but it was a start and he had managed to do it without hurting himself further, which was a plus. That left him with just the bandages Patryk had wrapped around his injuries to keep them covered and dry, especially the ones that hadn’t required stitches. But while Patryk had been very good about sneaking in to change the bandages frequently while he was under his care, it had been a few days since they were changed last, and that wasn’t even considering the fact that he had been running around in the woods for most of that time. Scissors in hand, he carefully began to snip away at the dirtied bandages, creating a small pile of them next to him as he cut them away. With each piece of bandage removed, more and more skin was revealed that was bruised and battered and covered in countless cuts. It was a long and grueling process, but fortunately it didn’t hurt all that much, aside from the odd case where he accidentally touched the cold scissors against one of the open injuries, but even that wasn’t really that painful. Unfortunately, taking off his shirt and bandages was probably the easiest of the tasks that loomed ahead of him. Taking a deep breath, Tom tossed the remains of his hoodie and shirt aside, and quietly made his way to his bathroom. Grabbing the tap to the sink, he turned the water on full blast. Not bothering to wait for the water to actually warm up, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the stream of water, shivering slightly as the bitter, cold water ran over his fingers. He just wanted to get this over with.

Lifting the wash cloth up, he took a deep breath before pressing the washcloth against a cut on his side that hand’t needed stitches, but was still pretty nasty looking. His jaw clenched up immediately and he released his breath in a long, pained hiss, but managed to slowly wipe the blood away from the injury. 

_Fuck_ , that hurt. He had only just started too. This was going to be a goddamned nightmare.

For a brief second, the thought of just going to a hospital popped into his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Yeah, no. The idea of getting trapped inside another room with strangers constantly coming in and out was not going to be the best thing for him right now. 

Rinsing blood off the washcloth, he moved his attention upwards, cleaning off a few burn marks clustered around his left side. Fortunately, it didn’t look like too many of the injuries had opened up during the escape, meaning that there wasn’t all that much blood to take care of. Still, if he didn’t want to end up with a horrible infection like Tord did with his arm, he couldn’t shirk cleaning all of his injuries. At least he was in the clear to clean off the stitched up injuries. If he had to try to avoid every single one of those, it would have been a nightmare.

Of course, that didn’t meant he was going to take a shower any time soon. Sure, it was tempting and his hair absolutely needed to be washed, but he didn’t feel like spending five minutes screaming under the assault of water pressure on his injuries just for the sake of some clean hair. He could just buy some dry shampoo, or wash his hair in the sink. 

Finally, he was almost done. Well, almost done if you didn’t consider the fact he hadn’t even started to address his left arm just yet, which was covered from shoulder to wrist in multiple deep knife wounds, to the point where it was probably more stitches than skin at this point. Every time he so much as twitched a muscle, the whole thing lit up in searing pain. He had taken to just letting it hang limply at his side for the most part, but since it was his dominant arm, it was hard trying to fumble his way around with not just one arm, but one arm that he wasn’t used to using.

But now he was just delaying the inevitable. Clenching his jaw shut until the muscles in the sides of his face ached, he took a deep breath through his nose before gently pressing the damp washcloth against his arm.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt so fucking bad.

It hurt but he soldiered on, rinsing the washcloth every so often under the running water and watching as his own blood ran down the drain. He had managed to tear open a few of the cuts at some point, but they looked like they had mostly healed over. 

It hurt but he continued to carefully run the damp washcloth over his arm, knowing full well that it would hurt a lot fucking more if he didn’t properly care for his arm. He had seen first hand what Tord’s arm had looked like underneath all of those dirty bandages, and he was not going to let that happen to him.

Biting his lip was the only thing that stopped him from making any audible noises of pain, but it didn’t stop him from recoiling slightly when the fibers of the cloth caught on stitches and tugged them, pulling at the skin. It didn’t stop his hands from shaking, and it certainly didn’t stop him from tasting blood in his mouth when accidentally bit down too hard. 

By the time he finished, he was out of breath and his hands were trembling. He was pretty sure his knees were shaking too. Rinsing out the washcloth one last time before turning off the faucet, Tom glanced up at himself in the mirror. Frowning slightly, he dropped the washcloth in favor of waving away a trail of purple smoke from his eyes. Nope. Absolutely not. That would easily be the fastest way to fuck up this entire mess even further, and while that had hurt like hell, he had the situation under control.

Except, of course, he still had finish taking care of his injuries. After he wrapped them up again, he could go back to Edd’s and pretend he had just been taking a really long shower. Reaching out, Tom opened up the medicine cabinet and rummaged through it briefly before, fortunately, managing to find both a can of antibacterial spray of some kind that was only slightly out of date, and a roll of fresh bandages. Even better, though, was an unmarked flask sitting innocently alongside a spare tube of toothpaste. 

“Haha, emergency alcohol!” 

Unscrewing the cap quickly, he took a swig from the container. After weeks without any kind of alcohol at all, it really was a fantastic find. He had no idea why he had ended up with a flask of alcohol in his medicine cabinet in the first place, but at this point he really didn’t give a shit. It was alcohol and at this point he was ready to chug an entire bottle of Smirnoff, consequences be damned. Getting plastered sounded fan-fucking-tastic at this point.

Setting the flask down alongside the sink, Tom picked up the spray and held it a few inches away from one of the cuts on his abdomen before pressing down on the nozzle. A harsh, cold, _stinging_ mist erupted from the nozzle, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as trying to clean the wound. 

His hand shook as he struggled to keep the bottle of antibacterial spray steady for a few more seconds before he set it down and took another grateful swig from the flask. Lifting the spray back up, he held it up to spray another cut on his chest when, abruptly, there was a knock at the door. 

Ah.

Well….

Shit.

There was no way he was going to get a shirt on to cover up all his injuries in a reasonable amount of time. Carrying the flask with him, he quietly approached the door and glanced out through the peep-hole. Maybe it was just someone he could avoid answering the door to. On the other side of the door, he could very clearly make out brown hair and a green sweatshirt.

No, it was Edd. Goddammit, that just made things even worse. The reason he wanted to go back to his own apartment to shower was because he didn’t want Edd or Matt to potentially see his injuries, because he knew they would worry. He wanted to just clean his injuries and put his sweatshirt back on and pretend nothing had happened and never speak of what had happened there to anyone. Even what little he had showed Tord had been too much, really. There was another knock at the door, more urgent this time, and Tom took a deep breath. He was going to have to let Edd inside, or he was going to get worried. 

Chugging the rest of the contents of the flask, he tossed the empty container onto the couch nearby before unlocking the door and pulling it open, carefully positioning himself on the other side of the door so nobody would be able to see him from the hallway.

“Oh, good,” Edd said, stepping inside his apartment. “I was getting worried. Are you-“ Edd stopped short as Tom pushed the door closed behind him, giving Edd the opportunity to actually look at him. Unable to help but shiver slightly-maybe from Edd’s gaze and maybe just because he didn’t have a shirt on-, Tom quickly held up a hand with a frown.

“I’m fine,” He said, answering a question Edd didn’t ask yet. “So don’t ask what happened, don’t make a fuss, and under no circumstances tell Matt.” Walking around Edd for a second, Tom made his way back to the bathroom to grab the antibiotic spray and the roll of bandages before walking back out to the living room. Clearing a spot on the sofa, he sat down, setting the roll of bandages alongside him.

“Tom.”

“It’s fine,” Tom repeated, picking up the spray again and trying to steady his hand so he could aim the stupid thing properly. Or maybe he was just staring at it as an excuse to not look at Edd, knowing full well that his friend’s face would only show pity and shock, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else. There was a reason he wanted to keep this to himself. “I already cleaned everything, and it’s all pretty superficial anyway.”

“Tom.”

“Besides, none of it is recent,” He added, “I’m just making sure I don’t need a hospital visit.”

“Tom,” Edd said, his tone just a little bit sharper than before as he walked away from where he had been standing by the door and towards the couch. “I know you don’t like to talk about these kinds of things, so I’m not going to ask what happened.” He knelt down in front of the couch and Tom felt a slight frown creep onto his face. “But,” Edd added, slowly reaching out and pulling the antibiotic spray from Tom’s hand. “At least let me help. Matt and I are your friends and you shouldn’t feel like you have to shut us out whenever something bad happens.” Tom huffed slightly and looked away, looking instead towards his kitchen. Maybe he had some more alcohol somewhere. That would make this entire mess much more tolerable. “Tom, I’m being serious.”

“Fine,” Tom relented with a sigh, finally turning back to look at Edd. “You can help. But I really don’t want to talk what happened.” 

“Okay,” Edd replied with a smile, handing him back the antibiotic spray and grabbing the bandages from nearby. “As soon as you’re done, you can come back to my apartment and I can get you something to drink.”

“As long as it’s alcoholic,” Tom replied, taking the canister and quickly letting a short burst of the mist spray his arm. His body stiffened but he managed to avoid making any kind of noise by biting the side of his tongue between his back teeth. It was a good thing that Edd was volunteering to wrap up his arm, honestly, since trying to do that with just one hand would be difficult. But in just a few seconds his arm was covered in a layer of clean, white bandages, and a few minutes later they were done completely. It was much faster than Tom would have been able to manage on his own, admittedly, and Edd had kept his word about not asking about any of the injuries, although at one point he had to step aside to take a quick phone call that only lasted a few seconds. 

“Alright,” Edd said with a smile as Tom slipped a fresh, clean shirt on. It was a little bit of a struggle, but with everything covered and clean it wasn’t too painful, and a new blue sweatshirt was quick to follow, hiding all traces of his injury aside from a few bruises around his neck and his black eye. “Come on, let’s go get you that drink and something to eat. Matt left some soup on the stove since he and Tord are going to watch a movie, so you can have some of that.” 

“Alright,” Tom replied. “I am serious though, don’t tell Matt about this.” Edd and Tord were enough people worrying, he didn’t need Matt on top of that. He didn’t want a pity party. 

“My lips are sealed,” Edd replied, pulling the door open so they could head down the hallway. “But I am serious, we’re all your friends and you shouldn’t be stupid about this. If you don’t open up to us, we can’t ever help you.” 

_Classic, stupid Tom._

“Yeah, spare me,” Tom replied, his frown growing as he shoved a hand in his pocket. “The only thing I need help with now is getting incredibly drunk.”

“If you say so, Tom,” Edd replied with a shrug, opening the door to his apartment. “Oh, I almost forgot why I went to see you in the first place. We’re probably going to have to head down to the police station soon. Matt and I went there after you went missing so they could help find you, and we’ve got to let them know you’re back. If you aren’t feeling up to it, I’m sure we can just give them a call and an officer will come here. I’m sure they’d understand.” 

“Yeah, fine, that works. As long as we can get it over with quickly.” He sat down at a barstool as Edd made his way to a large pot of soup simmering on the stove and scooped out a portion for him before reaching for a roll of bread to accompany it. "I don't need any bread," Tom said, a little bit too quickly before he could help himself. Edd paused and looked at him quietly for a second, but shrugged and moved to grab a glass to pour him something to drink instead.

"Whatever you say, Tom. Welcome back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tord isn't the only one who has come back changed from the Red Army.


	33. Fuck the Hiatus

The pages tore free easily from the bindings with a deafening tearing sound. The story of who he was, who he should be crumbled beneath his fingers as he curled his fingers into a fist around the clump of papers. Tossing them aside, he reached back into the book, grasping another mess of papers and pried them free as well. 

It was easy.

It was too easy. 

His hands shook as he reached for more pages and pulled once more. But maybe it was because he wasn’t that strong from hunger or being bedridden, or maybe it was because he tried to grab more than just a few pieces this time, but the pages didn’t tear free. Biting his lower lip hard, he tried again; giving another harsh tug that didn’t even manage to pull loose any of the pages. Shit. Dammit. Fuck. How hard was it to destroy a fucking book? He should have done this from the moment he found it instead of being an idiot. 

But now he couldn’t even destroy a tiny little book. He wasn’t just an idiot; he was a weak idiot who couldn’t even tear out a few old, yellow pages. He couldn’t even do something so simple as getting rid of a book, how could he ever expect to do something hard like evading the police or the army he had created. Every moment of failure filled him with a frustrated anger that threatened to boil over. It was like he could hear someone somewhere laughing at him, taunting him for being a complete and utter fool. 

Then there was a hand on his wrist, and he jerked backwards, tearing his arm free with a snarl in a motion that actually hurt something in his shoulder. His other hand immediately grabbed the offending wrist, twisting his fingers in harshly to the skin. Instinct drove his fist forward, throwing a punch at whoever dared lay their hands on him while he was thinking what kind of moron trained-

“Not the face!”

He managed to stop himself at the first glimpse of orange hair and a usually smiling face now twisted in fear that flinched away from his fist. Matt’s free hand was raised up defensively, tightly gripping an icepack, as he backpedaled away as far as he could go with his wrist restrained, a look of terror fixed on his face. The look only faded slightly when he realized the blow never came, but he still looked panicked.

“Tord?” Matt asked softly, not lowering his hand from protecting his face. Tord stared at him for a second before noticing his own fist only inches away from Matt’s hand, and his other hand wrapped tight around his wrist. He quickly let go and jerked both hands backwards, eyes widening in alarm at his own actions. What the hell? 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Tord yelped, shoving his hands into the pocket of the green hoodie he was wearing so he wouldn’t accidentally punch his friends. What was wrong with him? It was Matt not…well, he didn’t actually know who he’d be throwing punches at like that only made the action more alarming. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“No worries,” Matt replied softly even as he shifted backwards slightly, rubbing his wrist where Tord had grabbed him. Oh god, had he hurt him? Any remaining anger dissipated in an instant as he leaned forward, inching off the bed, concern etched all over his face.

“Matt?” He asked, and the step back Matt took didn’t go unnoticed. “Are you…are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Matt insisted, waving his hands dismissively and while the smile returned to his face it suddenly seemed forced. “You just scared me a little and I don’t really like people’s hands near my face. Anyway, what are you doing?” The change in topic wasn’t exactly subtle, but it was enough to remind Tord what he had been doing before. Matt’s gaze drifted away from him and towards the red book on his lap, then to the multiple crumbled pages strewn around the bed. “Why are you making snowballs out of paper?”

“I’m not,” Tord replied quietly, his attention focused back on the red book sitting on his lap. “I…it’s hard to explain.”

“Is it that hypothetical book that you wrote all your memories down in that you were asking me about?”

“Yeah, I guess when you put it that way its not actually that hard to explain.”

“So then why are you tearing the pages out?” Matt asked, bending over and picking up a crumbled ball. He tossed it up into the air and caught it, but didn’t make any effort to try to smoothen out the pages and read what was written there. Good, good. He didn’t want anyone else to read it. Not that he’d read it either, but the idea of someone else reading his book just rubbed him the wrong way.

“Because I don’t want to read it,” Tord replied, the frustration rising back up again at the mention of the book. “I don’t want to remember a past where I tried to kill all of you. I want to stay here with everyone and not worry about armies or giant robots or killing people! I don’t ever want to be that person and I certainly don’t want to read a book about all the awful things I used to do!” He had raised his voice at some point and with an angry scowl he grabbed the book and hurled it across the room just so it wouldn’t be anywhere near him. The book struck a wall nearby before flopping to the ground, falling open on the ground. He caught a glimpse of something blue inside before he jerked his head away, refusing to even look at the book.

Matt sighed and over to the discarded book, bending down and carefully picking it up before snapping it closed without so much as glancing at whatever was inside. Silently, he took a seat on the bed and set the icepack down against Tord’s ankle before picking up the grey nail polish again. He carefully unscrewed the cap before gesturing to Tord’s foot. “Can I apply another coat?”

“Sure,” Tord asked, admittedly a bit surprised that Matt was focused on that above everything else. And he didn’t know that much about nail polish but Matt did apply more than one coat to his own nails, so he obediently placed his feet between them and stared down at toes. Matt hummed softly and began to deftly add another coat of polish.

“Do you remember in Beauty and the Beast when Belle finds the rose?” Matt asked after a few moments of silence. “And then when the Beasts finds her he chases her off?” 

God, how long ago had it been since they watched that movie? He did vaguely remember that scene now that Matt mentioned it. Something about the west side of the castle or something like that. “Yeah, I remember.”

“He’s worried that if something happens to the rose he might be a Beast forever. So he keeps it hidden and then yells at her when she finds it. But he doesn’t really want her to leave, he’s just worried about this flower and the only way he can think to keep it safe is to keep it hidden.” Matt didn’t look up from his work, and didn’t slow his pace at all either. It was really remarkable how quickly and efficiently he managed to do that. Tord was sure if he tried there’d be nail polish absolutely everywhere. 

“So?”

“So what’s really on your mind?” Matt asked, replacing the cap on the bottle before grabbing a handful of clear bottles filled with flecks of sparkles. 

“Huh?” Tord asked. All he could think about was this stupid book! He actually found the thing and all it caused him was trouble and stress. That was why he wanted to destroy it. That way he could return back to the way things used to be before-

He swallowed a bit of bile that managed to bubble up from his stomach and pushed those thoughts further down. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, ignoring the soreness in his throat from almost throwing up. “The only thing on my mind is getting rid of this stupid book!”

“Sure, sure,” Matt replied with a smile, placing the new polish bottles next to him in favor of grabbing one of the balls of crumpled up paper. Carefully, he unfolded the ball before separating one of the pages from the others. Nimble fingers smoothened out the paper until it was a page again. Whole and unmarked aside from some creases here and there. “It’s a bit uglier than before, sure, but you could still read it like this. A bit of tape and you could even put it right back in the book. If you were trying to destroy it, you should’ve torn up the pages properly instead of just crumpling them into little balls.” 

“I was getting around to it,” Tord replied quietly. Right? He didn’t want to read the book. He didn’t want to know how many other people he’d hurt or shot or killed. But now that he mentioned it, it would have been easy to actually destroy the book. He could have thrown it out the window or burned it or even just torn the pages more. But the idea of going through with any one of those felt wrong. He stared down at his toes again silently as Matt began to paint his own toes with the sparkly nail polish he had grabbed, adding a layer of glitter that reflected off rainbows.

“Hmm, I’m sure,” Matt replied, not pressing that issue any further. He had proved his point after all. “But are you sure there’s nothing else you want to talk about? You seem worried about something. I’m your friend and I want to help you. But I can’t do that if you don’t open up to me.” It was just the two of them here, painting their nails. The movie was still playing in the background but he wasn’t really following the plot anymore since they had become too distracted doing other things. Everything felt safe, but it also felt so incredibly fragile. Like any instant someone could come storming in through the door with a gun, or crash in through the window with vengeance on the mind. 

It would be safer to keep his friends distant from that. Tom had gotten involved and had been hurt so much because of him. He didn’t want that to happen to Edd or Matt either. He didn’t want to put them in any danger because he told them something he shouldn’t have.

And maybe, more honestly, he didn’t want to tell them what he had done because he didn’t want them to judge him. He had shot someone. He had killed someone. They told him he was a different person than who he used to be because he didn’t want to hurt people, but there was blood on his hands and he couldn’t take that back. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tord finally said, looking away from Matt and pulling his knees in to his chest. Maybe he was being selfish but he didn’t want their friendship to end and sure he was keeping secrets but could they be friends if they knew? No. No they couldn’t.

“You sure?” Matt asked, and Tord forced himself to smile back at him. 

“It’s alright, I’ll be fine.” 

I can manage on my own.

“If you say so,” Matt replied as he smoothened out the rest of the pages before carefully tucking them into the red book and holding it out to him. Tord stared at the notebook for a few moments before accepting it back with a small frown. Maybe Matt was right. He still didn’t want to read it but something had held him back from actually destroying it. Some unconscious part of him wasn't really ready to part with it, and he couldn’t let go of it just yet, even if he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he had any plans of going back to the Red Army.

Even if he did, Paul probably wouldn’t want to see him ever again either. 

_Paul._

Shit, he hadn’t even really thought about Paul before. Paul had been ready to shoot Tom for absolutely nothing, and hadn’t listened to him when he tried to stop him. What would happen if he met his other friends? What would happen if he managed to find him here with them? Would he try to shoot him for what he had done? Would he try to shoot his friends? The Red Army had chased them down with a helicopter. They HAD a helicopter. 

With minimal effort they could hurt his friends. 

With minimal effort they could kill his friends.

He couldn’t let that happen. There was absolutely no way he would let it come to that. 

“Anyway, I’m done painting my nails,” Matt announced, tossing the bottles onto the bed behind him in a pile before stretching out his legs and arms. “What do you say we watch something else? I don’t think either of us were paying attention to this movie.” He gestured at the TV as he picked up the remote and exited back to the menu.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Tord replied absent-mindedly, his eyebrows knitted together in thought. They didn’t know where his friends lived, right? How much did they actually know? How much had he shared with them? The Red Army hadn’t shown up yet which was a good sign, but if they knew about Tom how could he say for sure they didn’t know about his other friends? Paul and Patryk had found him before. Was it dumb luck or did they know where to look?

He could feel his stomach twisting again. There had to be something he could do. Maybe he could lead them off the trail somehow. But how could he do that in the first place? The only way he could think would be to somehow reveal himself without getting caught himself, but that seemed far too risky and he had no method of contacting-

Wait, he did have a way of contacting them. The phone, still safely powered off, was likely bugged and tucked away in his waistband. Tom said if he had it on they could track him, right? So all he had to do was send it somewhere else so they could chase after it. 

Shipping it off somewhere in a box was out since mailing it would require an address. He needed something that wouldn’t lead back to the apartment complex.

He could always give it to someone for free, but who was to say they didn’t live nearby? Besides, that seemed pretty suspicious. Who would just accept a phone from a stranger?

Unless he didn’t give the phone to someone directly. He could tape it to their car-out of sight of course-and let them drive off, taking the phone far, far away and leading the Red Army chasing after it. He could look at licenses plates to try to find someone not from the area and tape the phone to the underside of their car. Whenever they left, they’d take the phone with them unknowingly and lead the Red Army far, far away.

With a plan slowly forming in his head, Tord looked up as Matt reclined back on the bed, a new movie beginning to play about a girl with long, golden hair. He didn’t want to worry his friends, so he’d have to sneak out. The first chance he got he’d dig around for some tape and then pop outside to find a car. If he went at night, they probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sirens blaring*


	34. *John Mulaney Voice* Fuck Da Police

The movie ended, and while Matt had played it with the intention of them both actually watching it, Tord found himself completely distracted the entire time. Of course, he gave the illusion of watching the movie since he didn’t want to hurt Matt’s feelings, but even as his eyes stared absently at the screen, his mind was racing. His hands ran over the cover of his red book, the fingers of his left feeling every groove and nick in the aged cover while his the fingers of his right couldn’t really feel anything aside from a persistent numbness.

It was a big country. Big enough that the odds of Paul and… well, the odds of _anyone_ from the Red Army being able to find him by random had to be incredibly slim. It required them to miraculously be in the same spot that he was in, on the only day his friends had managed to drag him out of the apartment. One city out of hundreds, one road out of thousands. Now that he actually thought about it, it made no sense that they had managed to find him. What were the odds of that? They had to be so astronomically low that it was close to a miracle. Unless…

Unless they already knew where his friends lived. 

He hadn’t actually considered it before. Or, rather, he hadn’t thought to question how they had found him at all. Of course, at that point he hadn’t known their names, let alone what the Red Army was, so it wasn’t like there was a reason to question why an international terrorist organization managed to find him on the one day he was actually in public. But it was the only thing that seemed to make sense. How else did they find him unless they knew exactly were to look? Well, not exactly since they could have just shown up right at Edd’s door, but they probably had a good idea of where to look if they managed to find him when he went outside. At worst, they probably knew the city and at best, they maybe knew the building and decided it was too much of a hassle trying to kick down every single door to find him.

An uncomfortable lump rested deep in the pit of his stomach. If they knew where his friends lived, why hadn’t Paul shown up yet? Sure, he hadn’t been back for that long but wasn’t this the most obvious place for him to go? And Paul was bound to be furious after what Tord had done. If it was him, he wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate.

_Stop thinking about it._

What if they did show up? What if they showed up and they hurt his friends, just like they hurt Tom? 

Tord’s fingernails dug into the cover of the red book. Even after a shower, the underside of his nails were still fairly dirty and scratched up from that trek through the woods. He wasn’t going to let Paul do that. He was going to keep his friends safe. 

Next to him, a phone buzzed, shaking Tord out of his thoughts. Matt stood up and picked up his phone off the dresser, glancing over the screen before humming softly to himself as he typed out a response. 

“Edd says dinner is ready, so we can head over there if you’re ready,” Matt declared, tucking the phone into his pocket and lifting up the remote to pause the TV. He hadn’t been paying attention to the movie at all, but it looked more or less over. That, or something really weird was going to happen in the final act with these knights saluting a horse with frying pans. Something really, really weird. “You are ready, right?” Matt asked, moving to stand in the doorway.

“Sure, sure,” Tord replied, a smile forming on his face that he hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt. He did want to see Edd but he couldn’t shake away these thoughts looming over him. The thought that just outside, someone could be prowling the streets trying to find him or his friends. He had to keep his friends indoors until he could sort everything out. He wasn’t going to let random chance let them get hurt. Luckily, it was already dark outside so they probably wouldn’t have a reason to head out. That meant as soon as dinner was over and they all went to bed, he could sneak outside. He was likely going to have to confront Paul over the phone. Just turning it on and sending it off in hope that it was bugged wasn’t enough to make sure his friends were safe. He was going to have to do something to make sure Paul’s attention was firmly somewhere else.

He wasn’t positive exactly how to do that yet, but he was going to have to make up his mind in a few hours. Talking civilly was clearly out of the question at this point. That option had flown out the window in the halls of the Red Army base, when they were wrestling for the gun.

_Stop **thinking** about it._

Tucking his book into his pocket so it was resting alongside the cellphone, he slid off the edge of the bed and slipped on his socks and shoes. The second movie had given his nails more than enough time to dry, after all, so there was no danger of smudging the polish. Or, at least, that was what he was assuming since Matt had no problem with putting his own shoes on nearby. Matt was the expert on these kinds of things, after all. 

It was a short walk down the hall to Edd’s apartment, where Matt opened the door with a wide smile and an announcement that they had arrived. Tord closed the door behind them, quietly locking it _just in case_ before following Matt deeper into the apartment. Edd was in the kitchen, lading soup into two bowls. Tom was sitting at the counter, back turned to them and head resting on the table. There was a bottle in front of him that was almost entirely empty, with just a little bit of clear liquid left in the bottom of the container. Huh. Walking towards the kitchen area, he peered at the bottle, trying to read the label.

“Smirnoff?”

“He’s fine,” Edd reassured with a smile. “One bottle isn’t enough to hurt him.”

“Yeah, Tom has a really high tolerance for alcohol,” Matt added, sliding into a chair next to him. “It took him three bottles of the stuff to even get drunk, and even then he was able to steal a sleigh and almost ruin Christmas again.” Okay, that was possibly the weirdest sentence he’d ever heard. How did one person almost ruin Christmas with a sleigh? There was clearly some kind of big story there he was missing, but from tone of their voices it probably turned out alright in the end. Nearby, Tom mumbled something and shifted slightly before settling down again, his cheek resting on his crossed arms.

“Here,” Edd said, sliding a bowl of soup towards him before starting to ladle out a second bowl, presumably for Matt. “I made up a couple beds on the floor in my room. It’s a little tight, but I figured after everything that happened you might prefer that to the sofa.”

“Oh,” Tord said, gratefully accepting the soup but pausing before he took a bite. Trying to sneak out over three other people in one room was going to be more difficult. Edd was right that he would prefer to stay with all of them, but in this case it just made his job more difficult. “Thank you,” He said, that forced smile returning to his face before he promptly shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth to hide the expression. Apparently it worked, since Edd grinned back before turning to Matt and starting to chatter with him. The soup was good, but it was hard to appreciate it with his muddled thoughts. But looking at Edd and Matt and Tom only reaffirmed his decision. 

He was going to make sure they were safe.

—— 

Three in the morning. It was still dark outside. The others had long since fallen asleep on the floor around Edd’s bed, while Tord lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. As quietly as he could he pushed away the sheets covering him and stood up. Sticking to the wall, he slid around the room, quietly stepping over Tom, then Matt, then finally Edd. The fingers of his right hand brushed over the doorknob, but when his fingers shook violently instead of curling around the doorknob like he wanted, he frowned but easily switched hands and gently opened the door. Closing it with only a small creak, he stepped into the main room. It was hard to see with only a few small things around the room providing light-a clock on microwave, the moon outside, the light of the hallway creeping under the door-but he managed to stumble his way over to the sofa and grab ahold of the sweatshirt Edd had lent him.

Tugging the green hoodie over his head, he pulled the book and the phone out of his waistband before placing them in the pocket of the hoodie where they would be easier to reach. This was it. There was no going back now. Sparing a glance behind him, he paused for a second before unlocking the door and slipping into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. It was a good thing the apartment complex was pretty straightforward, so it was easy to find his way downstairs and outside. 

He’d be back before they even knew he was gone. 

Stepping out onto the street, he tugged at the drawstrings to the hoodie anxiously before quickly starting off down the street. He wanted to make sure he was far enough away from the apartment complex just in case something happened. Of course, having only really been outside once he didn’t have any specific destination in mind.

It was probably just coincidence that he found himself in front of a familiar alleyway, staring into a gutter. That lump in his stomach had only grown, but this was as good a place as any, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the grimy, dirty alleyway, making his way past a few trashcans and a dumpster before leaning against a brick wall with a sigh. How long ago had it been since he was laying there in a puddle, starving and afraid? It certainly felt like an eternity.

Shoving the sentimental thoughts out of his head, he reached into the pocket of Edd’s borrowed hoodie and pulled out the cellphone. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he held down the buttons and watched as the phone silently began to power on. Okay, this was fine. He was going to call Paul and tell him he was leaving the country or something, then hide the phone in someone’s engine or something like that. It was easy and he didn’t have to think about what happened at all.

The phone finally finished powering up and immediately a notification appeared on the screen, brightly illuminating the alley in the night.

A voicemail.

From Paul.

Frowning, he lifted his finger to press the button so he could listen before sighing and shaking his head. It wasn’t important. It was probably just Paul yelling at him. It didn’t change his plans any. Dismissing the notification with a swipe of his finger, he frowned as he navigated his way to the contacts saved in the phone. Specifically avoiding looking at _one_ of the two registered numbers, he quickly tapped Paul’s name before pressing the button to dial the number, holding the phone up to his ear as it began to ring. 

This was it. 

No going back now. 

He was going to make sure his friends were safe no matter what.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring.

_“Tord?”_

Whatever he had been about to say was gone, his mind completely blank at the familiar voice on the other side of the phone. It was slightly distorted from the speaker and sounded horribly tired even considering the time. Lifting a hand to cover his mouth, his back connected with the brick wall behind him and he slid down to the ground in shock. 

“Patryk?” He whispered into the phone. That was impossible. But there was no mistaking that voice, he knew that voice and it had to be Patryk. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, all of them too fast to actually make sense of or latch onto. In the absence of actual, rational thought, all he managed to do was blurt out, “You’re alive?”

The line was silent for a few moments and _maybe he was wrong, maybe he misheard it couldn’t be-_

“Last time I checked,” Patryk replied, a slight deadpan tone creeping into his voice. “Are you alright? I’ll admit, I wasn’t really expecting a call this early.” Right, it was three in the morning and Patryk was probably exhausted, but that meant that he was alive, actually honestly alive. Tord leaned against the dumpster nearby, not even caring about how disgusting the metal was just because he was immediately filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. 

And then, before he really even knew what was happening, his vision blurred with tears and his shoulders were shaking because he was on the phone with Patryk and he was _alive_. Not dead, not even in a coma but alive and talking to him like nothing had ever happened at all. The phone in his hand shook and he was forced to hold onto it with both hands just so he wouldn’t drop it. “I thought you were dead,” He whispered, still not quite believing this wasn’t all some dream. “I thought you were dead. I thought that I-“

“It’s going to take a lot more than a measly bullet to keep me down” Patryk replied and Tord could hear his smile through the phone. He was so happy he wasn’t even sure what to do with himself. Rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, he sniffed into the phone, trying to collect himself enough to form a sentence. “Are you still there?” Patryk asked when the silence apparently stretched on for a little too long.

But he wasn’t dead. 

That was enough. 

“Sorry,” Tord whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he pressed his sleeve against the corner of his eye, trying to stop the tears from rolling down his face. “I need a minute.” A minute to compose himself and get everything together.

“Why don’t you call me back in the morning?” Patryk suggested and Tord heard a yawn creeping into his voice. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Okay,” Tord replied and after a few seconds the line disconnected with a beep. Sniffing loudly, he rubbed his nose with his sleeve until it was red and raw, but even that wasn’t enough to stop him from hiccuping softly in the darkness, holding the phone close to his chest. Patryk was alive. He wasn’t dead and it wasn’t all his fault. Taking a few long, deep breaths, he tucked the phone back into his pocket and slowly stood up. If Patryk was alive, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his friends. He had helped Tom after all. He could wait until morning to talk to him again.

Stepping away from the dumpster, he turned towards the entrance to the alley and started to walk towards it. It felt like there was a huge weight lifted off his chest. It almost felt unreal. Patryk had been alive and was able to talk to him without any apparent stress. Except maybe exhaustion, but it was pretty early in the morning. Either way, he was so relieved.

Suddenly, the alley illuminated with a bright light. Standing up, he squinted but raised a hand up, trying to see whoever was on the other side of the…what was it? A really bright flashlight, maybe? Or maybe the headlights of a car. It was hard to tell. Before he could really make sense of it, he heard the sound of shoes rapidly striking the pavement.

“It’s Red Leader!”

A large weight suddenly slammed into him and wind rushed past his ears as he was twisted around before he slammed into the ground on his stomach, his chin slamming into the pavement with such a force that it snapped his teeth together with a force that likely would have bitten clean through his own tongue if it had been in the way. Pain flooded his disoriented senses before a heavy weight settled on is back and his arms were jerked unceremoniously behind him with a force that made something in his right shoulder crack sharply, along with a burst of pain that travelled down his arm that quickly fading to a numbness from his shoulder to his fingers. 

The sound of footsteps accompanied the arrival of someone else, but they remained out of the range of his vision so he couldn’t actually see who was talking. Not that it really mattered, since being tackled to the ground had left him with a killer headache that just made him want to close his eyes and press his head against the cold pavement.

“Are you sure, Stanley?” The second man asked after a moment, “He’s wearing green, not red.”

“Steve, I fucking hate you.”

The weight on Tord’s back vanished before he was being hauled to his feet by the back of his arms. The tackle to the ground left him disoriented, but now that his eyes were adjusting slightly to the light he could make out one of the two men in the alley with him, and based off of his uniform it was immediately apparent who he was.

The police had found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw shit son, welcome to the fucking Interrogation Arc.
> 
> *finger guns into the void*


End file.
